


The Missing Year

by SummerChildWinterFury



Series: Tripping through Time [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on Book-Series rather than the Film-Series, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Marauders' Era, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerChildWinterFury/pseuds/SummerChildWinterFury
Summary: When Harry received his 1st ever letter, he never expected for Aunt Petunia to tell him (with pinched lips) that he would get Dudley’s 2nd bedroom, or inform him about other “freaks”, or reveal that his parents hadn’t actually died in a car crash, or to bring him to a dingy-looking pub and ask the owner to ‘open the back for her nephew’ while looking ill and refusing to enter ‘Diagon Alley’ herself, instead thrusting two £50 notes in his hands, telling him 'their' bank would be able to change it for 'freak money’, or for her to bring him to King’s Cross on September 1st before snapping that,no, she didn't remember how to get onto the ‘ridiculous platform’ so he best wait for other ‘freaks’ to come show him.But Harry especially never expected the magical castle, with plans of her own (yes, Hogwarts is apparently a 'she') for those who came within her walls.Or the one where, after being introduced to the magic by a more perceptive Petunia (pointing out to Vernon that they would come if Harry wasn't sent to Hogwarts, so might as well get it over with before 'they' thought on actually coming to Privet Drive), Harry transported 20 years back in time for his 1st year at Hogwarts.





	1. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone
> 
> Like for my other story, this fic has been playing on my mind for quite some time, so I finally decided to start writing it.
> 
> Plot idea somewhat inspired by the fic: ‘ _A Quiet Song of Magic_ ’, by [hiddenheadspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenheadspace/pseuds/hiddenheadspace): <https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084259/chapters/2180280>
> 
> Words of encouragement and comments are welcome but please no silly bashing-troll comments just for the sake of it.
> 
> Disclaimer: The World of Harry Potter does not belong to me. While my story is fanfiction, and my creation, the Canon characters, locations, ideas... belong to JK Rowling. This is a work of fiction produced for the single purpose of entertaining fans of Harry Potter, and no Copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Some parts of the text in this first chapter is taken from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_.
> 
> A rather short first chapter sorry – but had to cut it as I’m planning quite a few things for the second, during the ride to Hogwarts.
> 
>  

 

 

 

 

He had done it.

 

Nerves, excitement, anxiety, apprehension, wonder, awe all rolled through him as he took in the scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people.

Harry’s eyes went everywhere the engine’ smoke didn’t cover. Cats of every colour roamed between the legs of the chattering crowd. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Heads of students hung out the windows of the first carriages, clearly already packed, calling and waving to their families still on the platform.

A small lump formed in his throat, a small pang in his chest. Taking a hard swallow, Harry tried to ignore the parents still circling their children, those helping a student put his trunk onto the train, or children themselves saying their goodbyes...

He pushed his own cart off down the platform; concentrating on the prospect laid out in front of him: this magical world he was now truly a part of.

He passed a round-faced boy wailing about a lost toad to his gran. Another boy with dreadlocks lifted the lid of a box in his arms; the people around him shrieked and yelled all while a long, hairy leg poked out.

Still Harry moved down the platform, his nerves and excitement only continuing to build in equal measure, until finally, nearing the end of the train, he found an empty compartment. Pulling his trunk from the cart (now more than ever appreciative of whatever spell the shopkeeper had put on it to be lighter), he dragged it the few steps to the train with one hand while holding Hedwig’s cage in the other.

Harry took the first step onto the train and — a strange rush went through him.

He felt his handle on both his trunk and Hedwig’s cage twist away from him and redoubled his grip. The next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull; all leaving Harry feeling as though he was being forced through a very tight rubber tube. And then —

He gulped great lungfuls of slightly stale London air. The distant sounds of a bustling crowd slowly started to ring in his ear to gradually getting louder and louder; as was the cacophony of disgruntled hoots coming from close by.

He opened his streaming eyes. His comprehension catching up with his senses, it was a few seconds before Harry realized he was lying spread out on his back, staring up at the ceiling, inside the train.

He blinked several times before slowly turning his head to the side to find Hedwig’s cage knocked on its side – the snowy owl looking very much displeased within, the unhappy hoots only slowly calming.

Not that Harry was feeling much better. It was no stretch to say that had been the most uncomfortable, if not downright unpleasant sensation he had ever experienced; - and that was counting Dudley’s Harry Hunting and the time Ripper had bit at his ankles with Harry ending up spending the rest of the day hiding up a tree.

Speaking of which, an increasing pain in his foot made him look down, for Harry to find that the trunk must have dropped painfully on it before it had fallen on its side next to his leg.

 

It was on said very shaky legs that he tried to lift himself back up.

Unfortunately, still feeling rather nauseous and unbalanced, the next moment Harry was only able to watch in slow motion and unstoppable dread as he found himself falling forward, his face—

“ _Whaaah_ there!” Two large hands gripped his shoulders securely but not painfully, stopping him mid-fall.

“You alright there, kiddo?” The voice called once more from above, as the hands helped right him up.

Only once back on his own two feet and somewhat stable did Harry look up.

His first thought it was one of the twins from earlier. The boy looking down at him with concern had the same bright red hair and similar broad, good-natured face. However, Harry quickly noticed that while having a similar stockier build as ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ rather than the long and lanky of oldest and youngest, ‘Ron’, this student was still taller and clearly older and more muscular. His face seemed slightly weather-beaten and frecklier that he looked almost tanned. His hair was also slightly darker and longer, reaching the nape of his neck. Then there were the black school robes, with a bronze-and-royal blue tie rather than the gold-and-red the eldest had already been wearing.

Silently wondering if this was possibly a cousin of first family, Harry half-stuttered, half-panted, “T-thank you,” still feeling queasy and out of breath.

“First year?” asked the teen kindly with a commiserating smile. His eyes continued to look over Harry, clearly checking that he was in fact alright.

Harry nodded, “yeah.”

Finally letting go of Harry’s much smaller frame, evidently also happy with his current stability, the taller boy gave a nod to the trunk and Hedwig, “Need a hand with that?”

“Yes, please.”

The next moment though, Harry found himself automatically flinching backwards as the older boy swiftly pulled out his wand from inside his sleeve.

“ _Woah_! Sorry there,” giving Harry a sheepish smile. Continuing to look slightly guilt for having obviously startled Harry, the teen pulled back his sleeve to show a – “wand holster; it’s always good to have one, especially once you start spell-casting,” explained the red-head, giving Harry another smile. With a wink he then added, “Wouldn’t want to accidentally blow up your left butt-cheek now would you?”

Harry’s eyes widened drastically at the thought, while the older boy righted Hedwig’s cage and passed both owl and enclosure to Harry, “now, I’m going to leave this beautiful bird in your capable hands, while I...”—

There was a _flick_ and a _swish_ , and the trunk suddenly hovered off the floor. The older boy flicked his wand once more, and guided it into the closest compartment, and up onto the shelves above the seats.

Evidently noticing the look of awe still on Harry’s face when looking back at him, the red-head gave him another cheery wink, “You’ll learn to do that at some point in your first semester; – though not with a trunk mind you. Probably a leaf or a feather or piece of fluff... it was a piece of cotton fluff in my first year. – _Oh_ , here I go again, not yet introducing myself, mom and Molly would be horrified. – Fabian Prewett,” the teen stated, all while sticking out his large, slightly calloused hand to Harry.

Quickly switching Hedwig and the cage to his left hand, Harry readily shook it, “Harry Potter.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry Potter,” giving Harry another smile before dropping his hand. “Well, I’ll let you and this beauty-” giving Hedwig a nod, who straitened herself and fluffed her feathers at the compliment, “-settle in-”

Harry mood dimmed slightly. He supposed Fabian Prewett already had a compartment with older students. Nor would he really want to hang out with a first year.

“-But I’ll see you later Potter, _yeah_?”

Harry gave a small nod and weak smile.

“And if you see a slightly less good-looking version of me, that’s my brother Gideon. He’s a prefect, so he can help you out as well if you need any help. Try not to hold the Gryffindor part against him,” he added with a wink, and he was off, sliding the compartment door shut behind him.

 

No sooner had Harry sat down that the compartment door slipped open once more to reveal a tall, light-brown haired boy about Harry’s age with a slightly battered trunk by his side.

He shifted nervously, his eyes going between Harry and the rest of the space, asking, “Umm... is it is alright if I join this compartment? Everywhere is filing up rather fast.”

Harry nodded, for the boy to drag his trunk and slide it under the seat facing Harry, before sitting down.

He glanced at Harry, eyes going from his face to his clothes – Dudley’s old clothes – to quickly look out the window, pretending he hadn’t been looking. Harry for himself noticed the few light scratch marks on the boy ear and neck and his own clothes slightly shabby-looking.

Still, not wanting to be caught staring, Harry ended up copying him and also looked out the window. Half hidden, he watched the families still milling about on the platform. Another small pang ran through Harry as he watched them smiling and waving at their un-seen children in the train. A few mothers had taken out handkerchiefs. There was no sign of the red-headed witch who had helped him through the barrier though, nor did he see the round-faced boy with the missing toad’s grandmother. He supposed they were nearer to the front—

There was a sudden jerk. Harry thankfully this time caught himself on the window edge before nearly stumbling forward. It wouldn’t do to fall on his face _twice_ in the same day. Somewhat embarrassed, Harry was rather relieved to note that the other boy seemed to have been caught just as off guard as him given his pink ears and cheeks. They gave each other sheepish smile to end up both laughing.

They both looked out the window to realise that the train had begun to move. They watched several parents and the occasional too young child waving some rather teary-eyed, one small boy even running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed to which he then fell back and just waved.

When the boy, parents and station disappeared Harry as well as the other boy sunk back into their seats.

Harry’s bright green eyes met amber ones; each giving the other another sheepish smile.

“I’m Harry... Harry Potter.”

The small shy smile of the other boy’s grew, “I’m Remus Lupin.”

 

 


	2. The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first time on the Hogwart's Express and first real interaction with other magical children his age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those who have already liked/kudos or even commented this story.  
> Hopefully more of you will enjoy this second chapter.
> 
> Some parts of the text in this first chapter is taken from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_.
> 
> Some small edits made on the 23/10/18.

 

 

Once the first awkward introductions had passed, the mood in the carriage eased. Shyness was quickly replaced by natural curiosity for the other from both boys (and anything to do with the magical world, for Harry).

The train was barely out of London, Remus Lupin telling him about his wizard father, who worked with ‘ _Non-Human Spirituous Apparition_ ’ (whatever that meant, Harry unfortunately never getting the chance to ask), when someone knocked at the carriage door. It slid open to show two rosy-cheeked, round-faced, fair-haired students; a boy and girl. Siblings if Harry had to guess. They even looked rather similar to the boy with the lost toad from earlier.

The boy, obviously older, whispered loudly to the girl standing slightly behind him, “ _see,_ other firsties for you to play with,” to then give both Remus and Harry a small wave, “Hiya! Do you guys have place for one more?” all while indicating the girl. “I promise she doesn’t take much room-”

“- _Liron_.” A moan coming from the girl.

“ _Alice_ ,” the boy repeated in humorous echo, before turning back his attention to the two boys, “this is Alice by the way. So, would it be alright for her to join you?”

Both boys found themselves only able to nod.

“Great! Right, here you go Alice,” proceeding to lift one of the two trunks onto the overhead shelf and settling a small, rather girly handbag as well as a what was probably a box, currently covered by a just as girly patterned laced cloth, on the seat next to Harry.

When the teen, Liron, seemed satisfied with everything, some of the humour dimmed from his face, replaced with concern as he turned back to his sister, “I’m gonna go join Sturgis and Frank now, but you come find me if you need anything, alright?”

The girl, Alice, gave him a small scowl, her cheeks going slightly pink, with embarrassment or indignation Harry wasn’t sure, before she whispered hotly, “ _Yes -_ As I told mom, I _don’t_ need you or your friends childminding me.”

Liron raised his hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright...” Though he did then looked up to Remus and Harry saying, “Take good care of her”, an ‘ _or else_ ’ implied in his tone.

He gave a quick peck on Alice’s cheek before she could protest, and he was off, the door sliding back in place behind him.

Alice gave the now closed door a long glance, biting her lip slightly, before she turned and faced Remus and Harry, “H-hello... like my brother said I’m Alice - Alice Carol Orpington. It’s nice to meet you,” sticking out her hand, seeming trying to overcome her previous shyness-embarrassment.

Harry slid from his seat, stepping forward, “Harry Potter.”

She eyed him with increased interest, “Is it short for something?”

Harry frowned, “'short'?”

Alice’s cheeks rosied, as she explained, “Oh, well you see my father is called ‘Lutwidge’ but everyone calls him ‘Lewis’1, and my uncle is called ‘Algernon’ but we call him ‘Uncle Algie’2. So I couldn’t help wondering if 'Harry' was short for something...?”

Harry blinked. At home he was ‘ _boy_ ’, the ‘ _other one_ ’ or ‘ _freak_ ’. At school he had been ‘ _Mr Potter’_ , with the occasional ‘ _Harry_ ’. He had never considered that even ‘ _Harry_ ’ might be an alternative for something else. He remembered Aunt Petunia once describing it as a ‘ _nasty, common name_ ’, to which Harry had thought it was at least loads better to Dudley or ‘ _Dudlikins’_. Still, perhaps she had shortened his name to ‘ _nasty, common Harry_ ’, out of biter pettiness? Or simply, to go with his ‘freakness’? Seeing as Aunt Petunia had only revealed to him less than two months ago that he had actually inherited his ‘freakiness’ from his parents (only once he had received his letter), and that they hadn’t actually been killed in a car crash but had been blown up by another ‘freak’, there was a high chance that she had also kept several other things - _this_ \- from him as well.

Alice must have sensed Harry’s discomfort, as she quickly added more shyly and definitely mortified, biting her lip, “Sorry... I didn’t mean to pry. Liron is always telling me I’m too curious for my own good; he says I’m definitely a Ravenclaw, ‘cos I’m always wanting to know everything about – _well_ , everything.”

“Hadrian.” The word was out of his mouth before Harry truly thought on it.

Harry had always liked History class. He had always loved reading stories about other people from faraway places and different times; people from outside of Privet Drive, where the most interesting things to happen were gossiped about by Aunt Petunia at dinner that evening (which didn’t say much for the actual incident). Not to mention, the historical accounts themselves, were practically the only stories (apart from the odd children story in school) that Harry had ever been allowed to read, deemed acceptable as they weren’t made up (and obviously not ‘freakish’). (Not to mention, the Dursleys had never gotten him any storybooks, nor did Dudley ever lend him his, though Harry doubted he had ever read them himself.)

One of Harry’s favourite historical tales was of the Roman Emperor _Imperator Caesar Publius Aelius Traianus Hadrianus Augustus_ , or simply, Hadrian. In addition to also being an orphan and having a similar name to Harry, the teacher had talked about him being one of the ‘Five Good Emperors’3, how he had visited almost every province of the Empire (inciting Harry to imagine himself travelling all over, mainly to escape the Dursleys), and how he had built ‘Hadrian’s Wall’ to protect his people.

Besides, _Remus_ , _Fabian, Gideon,_   _Liron_ , _Lutwidge_ and _Algernon_ (not to mention most of the names in his textbooks) all sounded rather old-fashioned names; perhaps it was a wizard thing to have. He could see Petunia shortening whatever his real name might be just on the reason that it sounded too ‘ _wizard-like’_ – ‘ _freakish’_.

Alice shy smile returned full force, “nice to meet you, Hadrian – ‘ _Harry’_ \- Potter,” before turning her attention to Remus.

“Remus Lupin... I-I don’t think Remus is short for anything.”

“That’s fine, Alice isn’t short for anything either,” her smile only growing.

And with that she settled down next to her small hand bag and lace covered box. Her curious gaze filtered around the space, for she let out a soft – “ _Oh_.” Her smile and the wonder in her eyes only growing, she exclaimed, “What a beautiful bird,” having clearly noticed the snowy owl in its cage.

“Thank you, that’s Hedwig. I got her when I went to Diagon Alley.” Harry smiled, looking up himself, to see his owl clearly sleeping, her head hiding under her wing. He didn’t mention though that he had only been able to get her by pointing out to Aunt Petunia that a pet was on the list and ‘ _they_ ’ would probably do _something_ (possibly even come to Privet Drive to see how Harry was fairing at home), if Harry didn’t bring either a bird, cat or toad. He had also promised to leave Hedwig at Hogwarts on his return next summer (silently jealous that he would most like be unable to do the same).

“Uncle Algie gave me Kenneth and Grahame4 when I received my letter,” Alice beamed, all while she lifted the lace off the box, which turned out to be a small paludarium, next to her to show two impressive looking toads (at least as far as amphibians went) that were also clearly sleeping. “Mother worried that the school would say something about having two, but Father said it would be fine. He even sent a letter. Of course, when the reply said it was fine, Mother then huffed, saying ‘ _of course Dumbledore agreed; he did so because both Father and Liron are Gryffindors_ ’.” Alice’s mother had apparently been a Hufflepuff.

For Harry, he puzzled more on why anyone would want a toad, let alone two. Clearly, it was a wizard thing. His thoughts also once more went to the round-face boy from the platform, wondering on his possible relation to Alice; perhaps they were a whole family of toad-farmers? Or, more generally, amphibian farmers? (Surely that would be thing in the wizarding world if toads were so popular. Parts of them were even used as potion ingredients according to his textbook.)

 

Alice’s own attention turned to Remus, clearly interested in find out which pet he had gotten.

Remus' ears went pink. “... A pet is a big responsibility; Dad thought it best to wait till next year to maybe to get me something,” he explained, all while shifting awkwardly.

Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford a pet. After all, he'd never really owned anything of his own, let alone a pet, until a few weeks ago. Alice must have as well, as she was quick to give Remus a genial smile, all while stating, “You’re welcome to borrow Kenneth or Grahame whenever you want. I’m sure they would love the company.”

Harry bit back a smile then, noticing the discomfort in the other boy’s expression while thanking her. It was clear that least Remus also thought that toads weren’t the most appealing pet.

“You’re both welcome to borrow Hedwig,” Harry quickly added, mainly to cover the unease, but also because it wasn’t like he had anyone to send letters to and he didn’t want Hedwig to go bored or something. By their faces, it seemed to cheer both Remus and Alice.

 

The conversation moved on – to Harry’s dismay – to the rest of their Diagon Alley shopping experiences.

While mostly listening to the other two, only adding the odd remark as contribution, Harry thought back on his own trip. While having been the best day of Harry’s life, it had also undoubtedly been the strangest.

The whole experience had really all started with the previous day, also being both extraordinary and enlightening. It had been filled with many first and revelations; receiving his first letter ever, getting his own bedroom (while, for perhaps the first time ever, Dudley’s cries and protests had not swayed his parents), Aunt Petunia willingly talking about his parents... and other ‘freaks’ like them and Harry. Other ‘freaks’ who apparently now deemed Harry ‘freakish’ enough to finally rejoin their world again.

So, it was with all this running through Harry’s mind that Aunt Petunia had woken him early the next morning – even earlier than usual - and had taken him into London. It had been so early in fact that the dingy-looking pub she had brought him to, the ‘Leaky Cauldron’5, had been empty except for the man behind the bar, breakfast not yet being served. Harry had been caught off guard when the wizard had actually known his name and ‘welcomed him back’, to which Aunt Petunia, looking horrified, had snapped at the wizard - ‘Tom’ apparently – and brusquely demanded that he ‘open the back for her nephew’. Once he had done so using his wand (Harry looking in awe, Petunia twitching silently, especially as the bricks moved), Petunia had categorically refused to enter ‘Diagon Alley’ herself, especially given that she had to return to home to make ‘ _Didikin’s breakfast_ ’. Instead, she had distastefully thrust two £50 notes in Harry’s hands (all while looking as if it physically hurt her to do so) and a return train ticket, before informing him that the bank would be able to exchange the bills for ‘freak money’. She had also warned him to best return on time to make lunch and trim the rose bushes; Harry had been too concerned that she would change her mind and leave him with less money, or worse, take him straight back home, to protest.6

Needless to say, with no Dursleys around, but instead magic, it had easily been the best morning of Harry’s life. After his visit of ‘Gringotts’ (meeting goblins for the first time), Harry had gone through the school list, all while exploring the wizarding world for the first time.

Of course, Harry had been mindful of time and, mainly, money, through the whole experience. His previous experience of doing the food shop with Petunia, as well as years of needing to be cautious on any (meagre) possession he had, had been valuable in getting everything, not to mention having enough to buy a couple extra books, as well as a beautiful snowy owl, and still have a galleon, as well as a few sickles and knuts left by the time he had headed home.

For both the trunk and books, he hadn’t bought the new items but rather already used ones (sometimes the previous edition) that were still in good condition. In fact for the books, when reading through them during the rest of the summer, Harry had occasionally found the odd note added in, on the sides of the pages. Some made little sense, but most were interesting, and even helpful. On the other hand, Harry had gotten the standard, basic but new set for his uniform, as he had for the protective gloves, cauldron, glass phials, scales, and telescope, figuring it would be better (and safer) to not go for pre-used and worn ones (especially for the protective gloves and potions equipment).

To be fair, the shop owners themselves had helped in keeping his spending to a minimum. Harry had been more than happy by the near empty street, assuming their over-all warm attitude and helpfulness was to do with the early hour and being a slow day for the shops (Madam Malkin mentioning that most families did their school shopping later, as the older years usually received their own lists a few days after first years, not to mention some of the first years -mostly the muggleborns- might not have received their letters yet either). Still it had been more than appreciated (Harry thanking them profusely) when several had added a small discretionary discount on his purchases. The clerk who sold him his trunk had also placed a spell on it to make it lighter. Madam Malkin added a charm on the robes for them to extend a few inches when Harry (hopefully) grew. The wizard in _Flourish and Bolts_ had been more than happy to suggest different introductory books to the wizarding world upon Harry’s enquiry, to which (careful of his spending) he had gotten **_So You’re Magic!_** and **_Hogwarts, A History_** , appearing to be good first general descriptions of wizard culture, the ministry, ‘Quidditch’ (the main sport apparently played on brooms), etc, as well as the school he was about to spend the better part of the next seven years at (in addition to the required textbooks, and **_Gobbledegook: Understanding Goblins_** , after his first experience with the bank tellers). And the owner of _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ had given Harry the bag of owl treats for free.

It was only when he had finally gone to get his wand that Harry had ultimately put together why so many had known his name, the overly welcoming behaviour (a lot of hand shaking) and odd looks at his scar, all with the (minimal) information Aunt Petunia had revealed the previous evening. Not that he had gotten much information from the relatively disconcerting Mr Ollivander. After the brief mention of his parents and their wands (making Harry all the more eager to hear more about them) the wandmaker had proceeded to not only look, but _touch_ his scar, before mentioning ‘ _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ ’, the ‘ _terrible but great things_ ’ this other wizard had apparently done (things clearly terrible enough for the wandmaker to not want to say his actual name), the wand that had done those ‘ _terrible but great things_ ’ and that Ollivander had already re-sold it (not that Harry particularly wanted the wand that had killed his parents), before selling Harry the ‘ _terrible but great_ ’ wand’s brother.

Unfortunately, by the time Harry had finally been linked to his own ‘ _holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple_ ’ wand it had been time for him to head back to the Dursleys, in order to be back on time to make lunch. Thus he hadn’t been able to return to the bookshop to try and find a book about his parents’ killer and the events surrounding their death (and his scar?).

 

Unlike Harry though, both Remus and Alice’s favourite part had been the buying of their wands. On the other hand, Alice apparently wasn’t convinced by the ride in the Gringott’s carts.

“They aren’t for everyone,” Remus nodded, commiserate. “Mom refused to go in them, so just Dad and I went to the vault, while she waited up stairs.” With a small grimace, he added, “Though she didn’t really like being left alone with the goblins either.”

Harry frowned. “What’s wrong with the goblins?”

While he had no idea about the carts that went down to the vaults, he had quite liked the goblins.

Remus’ ears turned pink, shifting awkwardly. “Well, my mom’s muggle, so she’d never actually saw goblins before we went to get the things on my list. Mom and I usually stay at home when Dad goes to Diagon.”

“They are rather scary looking, especially if you’ve never met them before,” Alice nodded in agreement. “Father said they can get rather vicious, if you’re foolish enough to get on their bad side or be indebted to them.”

Sure the goblins were perhaps a little scary looking. And they had been rather peculiar; the goblins guarding both sets of doors at the entrance, as well as the one at the till had looked at him strangely when Harry had returned their bow (which had made him wonder if there was a special way to greet goblins, convincing him, later on, to buy **_Gobbledegook: Understanding Goblins_** ). Yet, Harry thought they had been helpful (and, all in all, less creepy than Mr Ollivander). Not only had the goblin changed the ‘muggle money’ for him and explained about galleons, sickles, and knuts (as well as the term ‘ _muggle_ ’), but, when Harry had asked for his advice on where to go next (inciting another odd look from the goblin), he had recommended Harry go to the trunk shop first, so that Harry would be able to put all his purchases directly into it as he went through the different items on the list. Not to mention, according to **_A History of Magic_** , the last Goblin Rebellion had been in the 18th Century, two hundred years ago, and wizards wouldn’t leave their money with goblins if they weren’t now at least reasonably trustworthy. Harry said as much to the other two. (Although, he didn’t add that the goblins hadn’t acted any more oddly than the different store owners.)

“-Besides, anyone described by Aunt Petunia as ‘nasty creatures’ can only be a recommendation for them in my book.”

It was the other two’s turn to frown, at Harry.

He could see the curiosity and confusion glowing in Alice’s eyes as she asked, “Why did the goblins have to explain galleons, sickles and knuts to you?”

Harry froze, not knowing what to say. He suddenly started feeling very hot, as both continued to look at him curiously.

“Well... you see... I didn’t actually know I was a wizard until I received my Hogwarts letter.”

If anything, their frowns only deepened at Harry’s answer.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Alice exclaimed, “I mean you’re a _Potter_ , - you even look like one, so you’re obviously not muggleborn-”

Remus nodded in agreement, all while his eyes traced over Harry’s face, as if he was jolting down all the ways Harry apparently looked ‘like a Potter’. As for Harry, the comment only increased his interest to find out more about his (magical) family.

“-I actually don’t think I’ve even heard of a half-blood Potter. In any case, if you were muggleborn, someone from Hogwarts would have come to your home and explained it all to you, to then go to Diagon Alley with you.”

“Well, the thing is, Aunt Petunia _did_ actually know about it all, she just never told me.”

Both looked horrified.

“She never told you?” Remus repeated faintly.

Alice’s own face looked rather concerned. “What about your parents?”

Harry looked down at his intertwined hands, his mood dimming further, “They’re dead – died when I was a baby.”

And then it all came tumbling down: the strange things that continued to happen through Harry’s childhood and the bizarre dreams he sometimes had, much to his confusion and to the dismay of his aunt and uncle; to receiving his Hogwarts letter; to Aunt Petunia finally telling him about this whole other world that apparently existed, one with witches and wizards (though he didn’t mention her use of the word ‘freaks’), that his parents had both been wizards as well and that they had actually been killed by another wizard, while somehow Harry had survived with only a scar (leading to Harry pulling back his bangs to show the lightning scar, as both stared).

“- which was why I was sent to live with my aunt as well as Uncle Vernon and Dudley. When my letter came, she brought me to the ‘Leaky Cauldron’ and Diagon Alley... though, she refused to enter herself. She only told me that I would be able to change pounds – muggle money – for wizard money at the bank. She at least told me what Gringotts looked like though: ‘ _It’s the big white building, you can’t miss it_. _Run by nasty creatures_ ’,” Harry said, echoing her shrilled-words.

If anything both Remus and Alice looked more horrified.

 

Face rather grim, Alice finally spoke, “Your aunt is most likely a squib.”

“A _squib_?”

“I supposed she wouldn’t like referring to herself as one. Squibs are quite unusual in the way that they are people born into wizarding families but haven’t any magic powers. They are kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards,” Alice explained, her previous cheer by now completely gone. “Wizard families tend to hide any squib born in the family. They’re seen as a mark of impurity; that there is something wrong with the line.” Her voice lowered a mix of sad and horrified, “Liron once told me that some of the older, dark families used to actually kill any squib children, but mom insists it’s only a silly rumour. Still, even if they aren’t killed or even shunned by their families, quite a lot of them end up living in the muggle world. Squibs tend to find it too painful in living among magical folks; even end up severing all ties with their family. Father says that they can turn rather resentful to witches and wizards for their magic. If your aunt’s a squib it would explain why no one came to your house with your letter... or why she doesn't like talking about our world.”

– _Or my parents_ , Harry thought.

Alice’s description actually explained a lot. More than she could know. Aunt Petunia _never_ talked about Harry’s parents. She always snapped at him when he asked questions about them. Nor had she actually ever talked about his grandparents – her parents – either. Even when she revealed to him how his parents had actually died, she had only said the bare minimum: they had been killed – ‘blown up’ – by another freak.

Thinking on it, Harry actually ended up feeling a little sorry for Aunt Petunia. To be different from all those surrounding her, unable to do what was considered ‘normal’ through no fault or choice of her own; Harry had known that his whole life. Not to mention, it wasn’t like it would make her anymore welcoming to the world that rejected her to hear that her sister was killed by magic, by of those who rejected her from their world.

_Still_ , it didn’t excuse that she had _knowingly_ and _willingly_ hidden Harry’s heritage his whole life, and had only finally done so out of fear rather than anything else.

 

The sound of the compartment door sliding open once more pulled Harry form his thoughts (as well as gratefully interrupting the overall awkward mood that had descended upon the space).

It wasn’t Alice brother (or Fabrian Prewett) though.

A dark red haired girl stood at the entrance. A tall and skinny black-haired boy, already in his Hogwarts robes, stood just behind her. The girl looked flushed and aggravated, not to mention her eyes were slightly red and puffy like she had possibly been crying. The boy wasn’t much better, a scowl marring his face.

Taking a tentative step inside the carriage, her eyes going more to the available space on each sofa than the actual occupants, the girl asked, “Excuse me – could we join you? Our last carriage was unfortunately infested by idiots-”

It was then that her eyes landed on Harry. Before any of the three could answer, she looked at him accusingly and added, “-You should know that your brother was very _rude_ to us; him and the other boy he was with.”

Harry blinked several times, as he blurted, “ _brother_? I don’t have a brother.”

There was a slight pause before the girl corrected herself, “cousin then.”

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t met my cousin,” Harry replied, his brows knitting further together. Noting their own looks of confusion were forming on both the girl and the boy’s faces, he clarified, “My aunt is a... _squib_ –“ giving Alice a quick glance, who nodded silently in response, “-and my uncle and cousin are muggles; so he’s definitely isn’t on this train.”

Harry didn’t add that he was pretty certain that if he had another cousin – a magical one at that, with magical parents – Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would have dumped him on their door step without so much as a ‘ _how do you do?_ ’ Not that Harry would have minded in the slightest.

The girl blinked, “Oh,” while also noticing the nods from Alice and Remus. She quickly turned flustered and apologetic, her cheeks going pink.

The lanky boy looked less convinced though, while his scowl had dimmed, his dark eyes stayed narrowed on Harry, a slight sneer on his face, “are you planning on going into Gryffindor?”

Alice frowned slightly in response, “What’s wrong with Gryffindor? - My brother is in Gryffindor.”

“There is nothing wrong with Gryffindor,” quickly replied for the girl, before her companion could do so. “It’s only that the boy we were with-,” giving Harry a quick glance, clearly indicating it was the boy that apparently looked like him, “-made unkind comments when we mentioned our possible interest in Slytherin. He apparently had a preference for Gryffindor, since it’s where his father had been.”

The boy looked like he wanted to add something, but caught the girl’s eye and remained silent.

Alice, who didn’t notice, grinned, “To be fair, Liron and his friends can be right buffoons when they want to be. In any case, it will probably be Ravenclaw for me.”

For Harry, when he had read the small introductions on each of the Houses in **_Hogwarts, A History_** , he had thought it an odd concept to separate them as soon as they arrived. Though, if anything, he was more frustrated by the fact that the book hadn’t mentioned _how_ they were sorted. He personally would be happy in any House as long as he wasn’t sent back to the Dursleys, for possibly failing whatever the sorting might be.

Still, he thought it best to add, “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin all built Hogwarts _together_ didn’t they? Built it to teach all children how to use their magic in a safe place? Well, I would be rather proud to be chosen to any of their Houses, just on that simple fact. It’s like Alice says – there are idiots and ‘buffoons’ in all families; pretty sure the same would apply to the Houses as well. Just as there will be those who are loyal, brave, astute, curious in all houses...” Looking between the girl and the boy, he added, “As for that boy (who apparently looks like me), _Merlin_ was in Slytherin, possibly even taught by Salazar Slytherin himself; how can there be anything wrong with a little ambition and cleverness after that?”

The lanky boy, clearly pleased with Harry’s comment, gave him a satisfied nod.

As for Alice, she gave a small laugh to then retort, “well, seeing as Morgana was in Ravenclaw7, perhaps I will become the next Queen of Avalon, and become your mortal enemy, if you do,” before letting out an overly dramatised evil-laugh. To which the previous tension thankfully complete lifted, most giving into a burst of laughter while the dark-haired boy huffed, though his shoulders did seem to deflate some.

Alice then presented her hand at the red-haired girl, “Alice, Alice Carol Orpington, pleased to meet you. And yes, feel free to join us.”

“Thank you. Lily Evans,” the girl quickly replied all while taking the hand and returning the smile.

During this the lanky boy had followed in after his friend into the carriage, to stick his hand out to Harry, “Severus Snape.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice his black eyes looking straight at him as if daring Harry to make fun of his name.

Seeing as he was just another wizard with an old-fashioned name, Harry quickly shook the hand while answering, “Hadrian Potter, or Harry if you prefer.”

While Remus introduced himself to Severus as well, Harry turned to the girl. She once more looked a little flustered, all while tentatively presenting her hand to him, “Lily Evans. And-and I’m sorry about... _before_ ; I shouldn’t have had a go at you because of how some other boys acted.”

“I understand,” he reassured her while shaking her hand. “Hadrian – _Harry_ – Potter.” Before he couldn’t help but add with a small smile, “My mother was also called Lily.”

It was possibly the only thing Harry actually knew about his mom. - _Well_ , her name and the wand she used, thanks to Mr Ollivander.

 

All seated themselves once more. Alice showed Lily her toads, while the other girl informed her that her black cat, ‘ _Bagheera_ ’8 (Remus smiling at the apparent reference to a muggle storybook – one the Durlseys had clearly deemed too unusual to have in their house), was apparently roaming the train in search for mice. The other two boys ended up talking about their wizard father (for Remus) and witch mother (for Severus), as well as life in the wizarding world; Harry finding their stories possibly even more interesting than what he had read so far in his books.

While they talked, the train continued speeding past houses, fields, lanes... and soon enough they started getting hungry. Lily and Severus, having left their trunks in different carriages (Lily with the rude boys going by the grimace on her face), went to fetch them on the promise to return.

Sadly for Harry though, as he watched the other two reach for their hand bag and trunk, the mention of food only reminded him that not only had Petunia had not prepared him anything but the fact that he hadn’t actually had breakfast this morning (a mix of Dudley eating everything his eyes landed on and Harry’s apprehension and excitement too high for him to eat anything).

He tried to ignore the small pang in his chest as Remus took out an apple, biscuits, a small carton juice box (clearly muggle), and several handmade sandwiches from a brown paper bag.

As for Alice, she seemed to have brought a whole tea party. It was complete with cucumber and egg-and-cress sandwiches (crusts removed, and cut into small triangles), bread and butter, scones (with clotted cream and jam), and tea cakes. She even had a set of pretty tea cups, with little white rabbits drawn on the sides. By the time Lily and Severus had returned (a metal lunchbox with flowers printed on it for Lily, and a brown bag similar to Remus’ for Severus), all had been placed neatly and with care on a floating tray (with the same matching design of white rabbits), also taken from her handbag.

Harry had been so absorbed by the whole preparation than he nearly jumped when he felt a small poke on his side. Remus, having evidentially noticed Harry hadn’t taken anything out, silently passed him one of his sandwiches and a couple biscuits. His ears and neck definitely warmer, Harry smiled awkwardly at the other boy, whispering a tongue-tied ‘ _thank you_ ’, while taking them.

Whether she had also noticed Harry didn’t have a lunch of his own or just having taken on the role of hostess (all while making Harry think of the historical TV dramas Aunt Petunia liked to watch when Vernon and Dudley were out), Alice also took the initiative to enquire how each preferred their tea. After each request, she then proceeded to repeat it politely to one of the cups for it to fill itself with said tea, milk and sugar, before she passed it to the appropriate person. Alice proceeded to explain (mainly, to an awed Harry and positively enchanted Lily) that the tea couldn’t be outright created from nothing. It was actually _summoned_. The cups were apparently linked with the Orpington Family‘s kitchen, which allowed them, knowing their approximate location, to be supplied with the requested tea, milk and sugar.

The trolley lady also passed. Harry went out into the corridor, eager to finally try wizarding food (Remus having already explained that she wouldn’t have Mars Bars or any other muggle sweets). Mindful of the few coins he had left, Harry ended up getting a one of everything for himself, as well as a pack of Chocolate Frogs and a bag of Bettie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (apparently the two most preferred wizarding candies according to Alice, Remus and Seveurs) to share amongst everyone. Having never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with, Harry couldn’t help but smile the whole time, as he tried his first ever pumpkin pasty, while sitting there with other children talking about a world full of magic.

 

Pumpkin Pasty, Liquorice Wand, Cauldron Cake and a number of others eaten, Harry moved on to the Chocolate Frogs (Remus having confirmed that they weren’t actual frogs).

He unwrapped one of them and picked up the card. It showed an old wizard's face. While bald, he had impressively thick eyebrows and a flowing silver beard, and moustache. It was the eyes that caught Harry’s attention the most: they were bright yellow, and seemed rather hypnotic. Underneath the picture was the name **Herpo the Foul**.

 

Harry turned over his card and read:

 

**Herpo the Foul**

_Ancient Greek wizard._

_One of the earliest known Dark Wizards. The first known creator of the Basilisk_.

 

Harry frowned, “What’s a _basilisk_?”

Alice was mid-chew on one of her tea cakes. Lily was sipping her tea while listening to Severus who was talk about... _potions_ possibly? Remus, eyes on his own card, looked up, “Pardon?”

“A basilisk.”

“Oh. It’s a great big snake.”

Severus scoffed, his attention diverted having clearly heard the answer, “A basilisk is more than a ‘ _great big snake_ ’; It’s known as the ‘King of Serpents’. It can reach a gigantic size and live for hundreds of years. Plus, in addition to having sharp fangs and being deadly poisonous, it’s said to be able to kill you just by looking at you – stare into its eyes and you _die_.”

_Huh_.

Finding the other boy’s (thankfully not-deadly) black eyes rather unnerving, Harry looked down at the card, turning it back over, to exclaim in astonishment—“He's gone!”

“They do that in wizarding photo and paintings,” Severus nodded importantly. “He'll come be back when he wants to.”

Harry blinked, “In the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos.”

“Do they? What, they don't move at all?” Alice asked, sounding amazed.

Both Remus and Lily nodded in confirmation.

Alice made another face of astonishment, “fascinating”, before opening her own Chocolate Frog, “ _Oh_! I got ‘ _Beaumont Marjoribanks_ ’, he supposed to be one of the newer cards: _‘1742-1845’ – A pioneer of Herbology and collector of many rare and magical flowers. Marjoribanks is said to have discovered Gillyweed_.”

“Gillyweed?” Lily asked this time, while Harry’s own gaze focused on the card showing a large-bellied man holding what he thought looked like bundle of slimy, grey-green rat tails.

Alice satisfied both their curiosity once more, “It’s a magical plant that allows you to breathe underwater. Uncle Algie says that the efficiency of if for salt water or fresh water depends more on what you give the seeds as they grow and at what time during the lunar cycle you pick them; full moon for a ‘salt water gillyweed’ and a new moon for ‘fresh water gillyweed’.”

Remus shifted oddly then, drawing the others’ attention on him. Harry asked him, “Who did you get, Remus?”

Showing Harry the card of a wizard wearing a toga, he answered, “’ _Falco Aesalon, Ancient Greek. The first recorded example of an Animagus, he could transform himself into a falcon_.’ I already have three of him.”

“A-ni-ma-gus,” Harry read-repeated slowly.

“It’s the ability to change into an animal,” Alice quickly supplied once more. “It’s a really hard process to do, but you don’t even get to choose which animal you become! It’s all linked to your personality, or so Father says. – If I could pick it would be a cat, to reach the tops of the trees and see better at night - or a mouse - or a hare...”

Lily looked it wonder from the card to Alice, “If you change into a caterpillar, does that mean that you get to turn into a butterfly at some point?”

Severus, Alice and Remus all shrugged, though Harry also noticing the look of frustration on Severus' face, clearly not pleased of his inability to answer his friend's question.

Harry wondered what animal he would like to turn into. A bird would be nice. He had always wondered what it would be like to fly. Not to mention, escaping Dudley and his gang would have definitely been easier.

His musings were interrupted by Lily then opening her Chocolate Frog, getting _Helga Hufflepuff_ , and for Severus to then get _Albus Dumbledore_ , before they slowly went through the rest of the pack. Harry not only ended up with _Herpo the Foul_ , but _Hengist of Woodcroft_ (trading him for one of Remus’ _Falco Aesalon_ ), _Circe_ , and _Merlin_ (Alice finding it hilarious a moment later, when she got _Morgana_ ).

As the countryside outside turned from fields to woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills, they took a break from discussing the different wizards and witches on the cards. Harry tried a few of the other sweets he had bought (as well as one of Alice’s delicious homemade cream and jam scones) to then finally try the Flavoured Beans – which really _did_ mean every flavour. He ended up tasting coconut, sprouts, toast, grass, strawberry, coffee, sardine, as well as being brave enough to try a funny gray one, which turned out to be pepper.

The window soon showed mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. Even the train seemed to be slowing down. They decided it would probably be best to change into their robes (except for Severus who was already in his). Remus and Harry changed first, while Alice joined with the other two in retrieving Lily’s robes, for the boys to then stand outside and wait while Alice and Lily changed.

By the time a voice announced an almost immediate arrival, Harry’s stomach was once more full of butterflies fluttering with nerves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 – Small wink to ‘Lewis Carroll’ actually being a pseudonym, his real name being Charles Lutwidge Dogson.
> 
> 2 – It’s never actually stated in the books if Great-uncle Algie is from Neville’s father or mother’s side; made him from his mother’s side in this story, liking the idea that Neville got his love of plants and amphibians from Alice’s side.
> 
> 3 – The ‘Five Good Emperors’: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nerva%E2%80%93Antonine_dynasty#Five_Good_Emperors>
> 
> 4 – Kenneth Grahame was a Scottish writer, most famous for _The Wind in the Willows_ , and creating the character of Mr Toad. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Grahame>
> 
> 5 – I’m making it so that in this story muggle parents/guardians/families to magical children are able to see the Leaky Cauldron (whether it be by some ward instilled by the Ministry, or by having just enough magic to do so, or some other reason I leave it up to you, the reader, to decide).
> 
> 6 – Not super important but I see Harry’s outing in Diagon Alley being a little less than five hours: just before 7 to 11:30-12.
> 
> 7 – Canon doesn’t actually say in which House Morgana was in but I can clearly see her in Ravenclaw; and not just because she could turn into a bird.
> 
> 8 – Bagheera is the (friendly, loyal, trustworthy, protective, sly, clever, serious and responsible) black leopard in _A Jungle Book_ , by R Kipling.


	3. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was gonna wait a bit longer to publish this chapter but seeing as I apparently have little to no patience/self-control... Enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for those who have already given your appreciations on this story.
> 
> Some passages were taken directly from HP&TPS / HP&TPOA / HP&THBP / HP&TDH

 

 

By time they descended from the train, it was night.

 

Harry shivered in the cold night air, as students pushed their way toward the doors. They all moved out on to a platform that seemed to have not been designed to be used at night – lighting near non-existent except from the windows of the train – or for such a large amount of arrivals – being tiny. Thankfully, over the heads of the students came a lamp bobbing along, for Harry to then hear a voice boom above the rest, “ _Firs' years_! Firs' years over here!"

A giant of a man – the biggest man Harry ever seen – stood over the sea of heads.

He smiled through the thick beard, making him looking somewhat more welcoming (though was pretty much still very intimidating given his size and general hairy-beastliness), “C'mon, follow me— any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling, following with the rest of the group after the large man, Harry couldn’t help but lean closer to the others and whispered so only they could hear, “Is he a giant?”

Lily seemed to also being looking at the huge man in wonder. Both Remus and Severus shook their heads though, while Alice replied – “No, giants are a lot bigger. They can potentially grow to be around twenty-five feet tall.”

Harry’s eyes widened, trying to imagine even taller people wandering about.

 

A gasp, followed by several other loud ‘ _Oooooh_!’s from the front soon broke his mussing. The narrow path had suddenly opened onto the edge of a great black lake. And perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, could only be...

_Hogwarts_. A vast medieval castle, like those in the Harry’s History books, with many turrets and towers, a warm glow emitting from its every sides.

Harry couldn’t help but stop and gape in wonder, feeling as if all the years living with the Dursleys had built up to this. No wonder Aunt Petunia might be bitter -

“No more'n four to a boat!” The not-giant called out, all while he pointed to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Since they were five, Harry suggested that they split into two groups. Severus gave a firm nod before Lily and he moved to the next boat, where Harry saw they were quickly joined by two other girls. A rather plump boy (yet still slightly taller than Harry) joined Alice, Remus and himself in their own boat. Alice was first to greet him with the same enthusiasm she had given Remus, Lily, Severus and Harry. The boy wobbled slightly in the boat, eyeing the water with trepidation, before stuttering, ‘P-Peter Pettigrew’.

The boat ride was nice, giving them all an even better, more rounded view of the great castle overhead. Although, it could have been slightly better if the additional boy, Peter, wasn’t so concerned about falling into the lake. He clutched the edge of the boat so hard that Harry was certain he was making it wobble more than the mostly still lake.

Harry wasn’t the only one to notice. Alice quickly tried to reassure the boy, pointing out that if the boats could hold the very large man, four first years should be fine. “-In any case, my brother told me that the Giant Squid – _Verne_ 1 \- is supposed to be very friendly. I’m sure he he’ll make sure put back in a boat anyone who might fall over.”

Needles to say, the second part didn’t seem to reassure the boy as much as the first.

 

Appreciatively, they were soon distracted by the large man yelling at them to put their heads down as the first boats reached the cliff beneath the castle. The boats carried them through a curtain of ivy hiding a wide opening, seeming to take them right underneath the castle, to bring them to an underground harbour.

Once they had clambered out onto rocks and pebbles, Lily followed by Severus re-joined them, both still wearing similar looks of wonder on their faces. They all the followed the rest up a flight of stone steps and crowd around a huge, oak front door.

The man raised a gigantic fist, to knock three times on the castle door.

It opened at once, to present a very stern, no-nonsense, looking witch in emerald-green robes to them.

Thanking the very large man, she then guided the group through the doors, through a great big entrance hall, only to lead them to a small, empty chamber off the hall to welcome them to the school as well as give a similar explanation about the sorting and the four Houses as Harry had read in **_Hogwarts: A History_**.

And yet, like the book, she didn’t explain _how_ they would be sorted before leaving them in the chamber to ‘ready themselves’.

Harry swallowed, starting to feel queasy.

He turned to Remus, Alice, Lily and Severus. He was about to ask if any of them knew, when he noticed Severus was glaring at some of the other first years, while Lily was pointedly looking in the other direction. Harry followed the stare. His eyes landed on a tall, slim, good-looking boy grinning at another boy. His dark-hair fell just above his eyes with a sort of casual elegance; there was a slight self-importance in his stance that reminded Harry somewhat of Dudley. He could only assume that this was one of the boys who had gotten in an argument with Lily and Severus on the train.

The boy must have sensed someone looking at him, because the next moment, laughing grey ones met Harry’s green ones.

The grey ones just as quickly widened, before the boy poked another one by his side and pointed to Harry, all while whispering something in his ear.

A jolt ran through Harry when his eyes landed on his companion, now also staring back and frowning (– mostly likely in confusion, just like he was currently feeling) back at Harry.

He now understood why Lily and Severus had though he had a brother. The boy staring back at Harry was nearly identical to him in appearance with the exception of hazel eyes instead of Harry’s green ones. Even his hair was the same unmanageable mess that Harry’s was. He could be Harry’s twin. –Or, perhaps an older brother; while also rather slim, the other boy was taller and broader. People could probably easily think he was at least a year older than Harry. Harry couldn’t help but also notice the indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that which he had witnessed often enough from the Dursleys around Dudley. The boy’s glasses were a nice gold-wired pair rather than Harry’s taped glasses. Like most, he was also wearing brand-new Hogwarts robes, but his, the arrogant-looking boy next to him and a few others seemed to have some in an even nicer material, a sharper black, with the cut more in line to his particular frame.

Eyes still fixed on the other boy, Harry wondered if he _did_ have other relations apart from the Dursleys. But if so, _why_ hadn’t he been sent to live with them?

Perhaps they were too distant relations? - Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister after all; Dudley his first cousin.

Then again, the boy was clearly _magical_. And by the nice robe and how more easily he stood in the surrounding space, Harry would be surprised if he hadn’t lived in the wizarding world his whole life.

Would it not have made more sense for Harry to be with other ‘freaks’ in his family, even if possibly more distant relatives?

 

-“ _Blimey._ ”

Harry turned to find Remus wide-eyed, also looking between Harry and the other boy, “you sure you don’t have a brother? You could be _twins_.”

There was a grunt from Remus’ side.

Severus was also still staring - _well_ , glaring, at Harry’s lookalike. “Let’s hope you have more brains that h— _ARRGHH_!”

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling just missing Severus’ head, exploding on the stone floor next to him. Unfortunately that didn’t stop the water from spraying on his as well as Remus’ robes. Sputtering, both staggered sideways into Harry.

A second later, another water bomb fell — narrowly missing three girls not far away, bursting on the foot to spraying their feet. They as well as several around them shrieked. Harry looked up. Floating twenty feet above them was a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the several more balloons.

He cackled evilly, “ _Ickle Firsties_! What fun!” before lobbing another water-bomb at several boys on the other side of the chamber, who all started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

“Little squirts! _Wheeeeeeeeee_!” And he aimed another bomb —but, before he threw it, the floating thing suddenly seemed to sense something, as he straightened, his ears giving the impression of perking up.

He stuck out his tongue, before quickly throwing the last of his water-bombs into the air, and cackled insanely. There was a loud pop and he was gone.

Not a moment later a horrible looking ghost, pearly-white and slightly transparent, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood streamed through the back wall into the room. He looked furiously around the room, before disappearing through one of the other walls a few moments later.

So startled by its entrance and exist, it took Harry a moment to realise that about twenty other ghosts had followed behind the first one, all looking down at the first years in a mix of interest and trepidation.

What appeared to be a plump little monk looked down at them, seeming to be the most contrite out of the floating group, “Oh dear... Peeves is at it again it seems. We’d better go inform the Headmaster.”

“I will go, Friar” – another ghost quickly volunteered importantly, “after all, Professor Dumbledore was in _my_ House,” before he too disappeared through a different wall to the first ghost.

 

Harry only just barely noticed his lookalike and the boy’s companion currently laughing and pointing at relatively wet Severus and Remus, when the doors were swung open, to show a very disgruntled looking Professor McGonagall. Her sharp eyes swiped over both the first years and the ghosts.

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, while the Professor looked down at the students and with an irritated huff pulled out her wand and swished it several times over the group. Harry watched as Severus and Remus’ robes as well as the others that had been hit near-instantly dried.

In the same sharp voice as before, she then directed them into the Great Hall.

As they started to move, Alice informed the other four in a whisper, “My brother told me about ‘Peeves the Poltergeist’. He warned me to watch out for him. Apparently the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House’s ghost, is the only one who can control him, apart from possibly the Headmaster... though, Professor Dumbledore tends to find him ‘ _rather amusing_ ’, which doesn’t help—”

The view of the Great Hall, once they passed the pair of double doors, stopped her from adding anything else or any of them asking for more information on Peeves the Poltergeist, the Slytherin Ghost or the Headmaster.

Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place.

Thousands of candles floated in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. At the top of the hall was another long table, where the teachers resided. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver in the candlelight. (‘Peeves the Poltergeist’ was nowhere in sight.)

Harry ignored the hundreds of faces staring at them. Instead, he looked upward to find a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He remembered **_Hogwarts, A History_** mentioning the Great Hall’s ceiling having been bewitched to look like the sky outside. To which, he found himself wondering how even magic had been able to do something so magnificent. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

It was only once he felt those in front of him come to a halt that his head snapped back down to watch Professor McGonagall bring an old wizard hat (that Aunt Petunia would have burnt on sight) and place it on a four-legged stool.

Only then did Harry realise he had forgotten to ask the others about the sorting. The earlier unease enveloped him even more so than before.

He had just started to wonder if they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, when it suddenly twitched, giving Harry a start.

That is before his heart leapt further in his chest when a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth –and the hat _sang_!

... sang about Hogwarts...

... sang about the four Houses...

... sang about even himself...

Harry was certain he wouldn’t get used to the whole many mysteries and wonders of magic anytime soon.

 

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its interesting if not intriguing song. In return, the wizard’s hat bowed (however much a magical pointed hat was able to so do) to each of the four tables, to then become quite still again.

“ _So we've just got to try on the hat_!” Harry heard Lily whisper near him, sounding rather reassured.

Harry only smiled weakly though. While trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do some magic, he wished they could try it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; the only thing Harry was currently feeling was _queasy_... not brave or quick-witted or cunning or any of the other things it had mentioned.

 

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment, explaining that when she called out their names, they were to put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted, before calling out, “Aubrey, Bertram.”

A pink-faced boy stumbled slightly out of the group, to put on the hat, which fell right down over his eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—

" _SLYTHERIN_!" shouted the hat.

The table closest to the Entrance Doors cheered and clapped as Bertram Aubrey went to sit down at the table. The hat also called out ‘Slytherin!’ for the next name, ‘ _Baddock, Magenta_ ’.

‘ _Bagman, Otto_ ’ followed, to be sent to – ‘ _HUFFLEPUFF_!’

The table on the right this time broke into applause as the boy removed the hat and joined them. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at him, as well as a several-heads-taller and more muscular teen with the same round eyes, blond hair and rosy completion as the first year, who Harry could only assume was Otto Bagman’s elder brother.

“Black, Sirius.”

It was the arrogant-looking boy that was standing next to Harry’s not-twin.

The boy in question sent a quick smirk to his companion before walking assuredly to the hat and stool. Harry wondered if the slight swagger in the boy’s step was in his imagination, before Sirius Black placed the hat over his head. The hat took a little longer than for the three prior to him, before calling out, ‘ _GRYFFINDOR_!’

Some, like Harry, clapped, as it was only polite to, but he did notice in surprise the odd sort of hush had followed at that particular sorting. Past the boy and the chair, a large-bellied, moustached wizard at the Professors’ table looked rather disgruntled, the Headmaster looked surprised but amused, and Harry even noticed the stern-looking Professor McGonagall blink, all before the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

‘ _Bletchley, Cecily_ ’ was soon called, pulling everyone’s attention back on the hat and the names still to be called and sorted continued. Regrettably, just as the names called increased, as did Harry’s apprehension. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he wasn’t any good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked his ‘freakish’ cousin.

All too soon Professor McGonagall called out, “Evans, Lily.”

Trying to give her a reassuring smile (all while still feeling queasy inside) Harry watched the small witch walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. The hat was dropped onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “ _GRYFFINDOR_!”

As Lily took off the hat, and handed it back to Professor McGonagall, Harry heard Severus let out a tiny groan next to him. Just as, as she went to the cheering Gryffindors Lily glanced back at her tall-lanky friend and gave him a sad little smile. Harry couldn’t help but also reach out and squeeze Severus’ arm momentarily. Severus’ head snapped, a glare meeting Harry full force, before the other boy’s face softened somewhat noticing who it was, and he gave Harry a stiff nod before turning his head back to the hat.

The roll call continued. There was a pair of twin girls at one point, "Fawley, Creusa" and "Fawley, Melite", the first going into Hufflepuff, and the second into Ravenclaw. And with it, a horrible thought struck Harry. As horrible thoughts always did when one was very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

Trepidation building through him, Harry watched Remus also go into Gryffindor. Alice went into Ravenclaw like she had anticipated. Peter Pettigrew joined the Gryffindor after having taken quiet a long time under the hat; a lot longer than any of the others.

Then there was ‘ _Pritchard, William’_ , ‘ _Pithos, Pandora_ ’, and—

“Potter, James.”

The hat barely touched Harry’s lookalike, ‘James’ apparently, head before it screamed, " _GRYFFINDOR_!”

And James Potter went to join Sirius Black on the bench, looking pleased with himself.

But during the other boy’s sorting Harry only paid attention to the slow sinking realization that his name had been _skipped_.

_He_ had been missed out entirely.

Harry hadn’t even considered that possibility. What was he supposed to do now? Cold panic ran through him. He barely noticed as the names continued, or when Professor McGonagall reached ‘ _Snape, Severus_ ’ for the hat to cry out “ _Slytherin_!” a few moments later, or the dozen first years that followed him, finishing with ‘ _Urquhart, Thomas_ ’ also being made a Slytherin.

 

Professor McGonagall was about roll up her scroll when she noticed Harry still standing there, _waiting_. His insides were now a terrified mess, filled with dread and mortification.

Her brows creased slightly as she glanced back down at the list, before her stern gaze fixed once more on him. As did those of the other teachers behind her. In fact, Harry was sure he could feel the eyes of every single person in the Great Hall on him; teacher, students, ghosts... Even the animals of the different banners and the paintings on the walls seemed to be staring at him.

Whispers broke out like little hissing fires all over the room.

As for Professor McGonagall she moved closer to Harry, before asking him firmly but not unkindly, “and who might you be?”

“P-Potter, Hadrian –Harry... Professor.”

She gave him a small nod, before her eyes lingered moment to the Gryffindor table, to then return on Harry. “Did you sneak onto the train with an older sibling, Mr. Potter?”

“ _No_!” Harry shook his head violently.

Thinking rapidly, he quickly pulled out his Hogwarts’ letter from his robes.

Ever since Aunt Petunia had returned it to him, he carried around with him. Even with his wand, his books, trunk and other newly acquired possessions, it was _the_ constant reassurance that he hadn’t imagined it all. _It_ had been the beginning. To magic. Hogwarts. Witches and Wizards. The Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He often found himself re-reading the words of acceptance in the evening before going to sleep. Truthfully, even though he had treated the letter with the utmost care, folding it neatly and cautiously twice, Harry was always surprised how pristine it continued to look, no matter the number of times he had taken the letter out to look at it. - But then again, he supposed: _magic_.

 

Harry quickly unfolded the letter and presented it to Professor McGonagall.

While the Deputy Headmistress took it and read it, it was with a sinking feeling that Harry then noticed that the _Headmaster_ had moved from the teacher’s table to join Professor McGonagall’s side. Frown still in place, she readily passed the older wizard the letter, her eyes going between Professor Dumbledore, the letter and Harry.

Harry for himself could only stare at the pair of them and his letter. His heart beating faster than it ever had from trying to escape Dudley and his gang or Ripper... He became more and more certain they were going to send him back to the Dursleys.

He started to babble, the dread building up inside him, “My Aunt, she confirmed by muggle post – she’s a squib you see, and we didn’t have Hedwig – m-my owl yet. She said it should arrive at Hogwarts without any problem... but maybe it didn’t arrive... I promise she sent one... We went to Diagon Alley the next day and got me my wand,” all while pulling out the aforementioned wand. “It took a lot of tries but it glowed and felt all warm and everything when I finally held this one...”

His stuttering abruptly stopped when Professor Dumbledore raised his own wand – to _Harry_.

Harry couldn’t help but take a step back in reaction, eyes wide going between the Headmaster and the wand.

The old wizard gave a soft chuckle “No need to be worried, Mr Potter,” clearly trying to reassure him (and mostly failing), “I’m merely going to cast a spell over you. I promise it won’t hurt one bit.”

Harry gave a nervous nod.

And, with a flourish wave and soft _whoosh_ , a beautiful golden cloud appeared, to quickly envelope Harry. Regardless of the headmaster’s previous comforting words, Harry found himself frozen, even fearing to breath, until the cloud finally dispersed.

Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled once more, “Aged _eleven years, one month and two days_... making your birthday 31 st of July.”

Still nervous, it took Harry a moment to realise the Headmaster was waiting for confirmation. He readily nodded, unable to stop the stuttering – “Y-yes, sir. Th-that’s correct.”

“Well then, you are clearly were you are meant to be,” he stated, before he returned Harry his letter and indicated to the stool and hat to him.

Harry never moved so quickly to a chair or put on a hat before.

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.

 

He waited.

 

“ _Oh! Hello there_!,” a small voice suddenly said in his ear. Harry gripped the edges of the stool. It took all to fall off the stool. “ _Mr Harry Potter. Here a little early, I would say_ —Oh, _wait. I see. Oh no, she_ didn’t.. _. Though, she clearly_ did.”

Harry’s anxiety was quickly turning to confusion and curiosity, “ _Who_ did _what_?”

“Hogwarts _, Mr Potter_.”

“ _Hogwarts is a_ ‘she’?”

“ _Of course she is. Mothering to so many students and teachers over a thousand—_ well _near-thousand years. Mothering to even those who built her;_ _all the rows Godric and Salazar had... –The best of friends make the worst enemies, especially when as hot tempered as those two. She did try her best_...”

" _But… but Hogwarts is a_ castle!"

“ _A magnificent castle._ ” The hat agreed, “ _A_ _stronghold of ancient magic_. _I should know:_ _I have known her during her whole existence. I was newly sewn, always on Godric’s head when Helga, Rowena, Salazar and him decided to bring their magic together and lay down her first stones. But, it is easily overlooked that she has more than just their hard-work out together. She has their_ magic; _their daring and nerve, their loyalty and sense of righteousness, their knowledge and wit, their cunning and determination; not to mention all the other wizards and witches who passed through her walls since... Let’s just say that can lead to a great many things_...”

“ _What do you mean_?”

“ _Well, Mr Potter, did you happen to notice a sudden..._ shift _at any point today_?”

Harry thought back through his day, to easily remember the overwhelming queasy feeling that had run through him right before making him fall on the train floor.

“ _That would be it_ ,” the hat whispered in his ear, having clearly seen the incident in his head. “ _It seems Hogwarts thought it best to meddle, and well, she_... transferred _you_.”

“ _Transferred me_?” Harry frowned. While he had fallen over, he had still only just stepped onto the train. He had definitely not found himself in another place, tripped into another space.

“ _No – not through space Mr Potter; through_ time.”

“ _Time_?”

“ _Yes, you might not have yet realised but you are no longer in 1991 Mr Potter, but 1971_.”

“ _1971_!”

“ _Indeed. Which explains why the Headmaster and his Deputy Headmistress were somewhat... befuddled by your presence –as well as the absence of your name on their list of new students_.”

“ _But I have to go back_!”

“ _Well it’s not that simple Mr Potter. Seeing as Hogwarts placed you hear I believe it would be safest if she were the one to send you back. And at this moment she believes she has brought you where she felt you are needed the most... or perhaps it is where_ you _needed to be most? I’m not entirely certain on that particularity_ _. In any case, it would probably be best if you not tell anyone about this ‘transfer’ unless you specifically have to. The attention and scrutiny it would bring you is not one I recommend to any of the students I have looked into the mind of_.”

Dread filled Harry at the thought that he would be considered a ‘freak’ in the wizarding world as well. He suddenly remembered the piercing way the wandmaker had looked at him, as well as the continual odd looks the other shopkeepers and even the goblins had given him; all also knowing his name. He could only imagine it would be a lot worse than that.

“ _Just so Mr Potter_ ,” the hat whispered not unkindly. “ _Trust Hogwarts – she been here longer than any witch or wizard here; only I can claim to be older, thought not possibly as wise, or daring, or loyal, or determined. And if you do feel at a loss, you can always come visit me_.”

It felt like the Hat shifted then, “ _But for now, I think it would be best if we moved on to your sorting. While I’ve never eaten a day in my life, you as well as the other residents of our magnificent lady might be getting impatient for the feast. In any case, there is no point in speculating what Hogwarts has planned, she is – as they say – full of mysteries_.”

And that was clearly that, as the hat whispered next, “Now, _let’s have a look at what else is in your head... Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Definite curiosity. Not a bad mind either. There's talent. Ah my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you_?”

Unsure if he was more speaking to himself or actually asking Harry, Harry thought it best to reply, “ _They all seemed rather interesting_ ,” thinking of the introduction of each House he had read in **_Hogwarts: A History_**. “ _I don’t really mind_.”

“ _You wouldn’t mind any, eh_?”

“Well _– maybe Gryffindor_ ,” remembering Remus, before quickly adding, “ _or Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin_...” not only also remembering Alice, Lily and Severus but also the other Potter boy, not certain if he wanted to be in the same House as him, especially after Lily’s comments about him and the other rather pompous boy that had reminded him slightly of Dudley.

“ _Haha, yes... quite so... Already loyal to those you have just met, you definitely have the makings of a Hufflepuff. There is no lack of toll in your head—but no, you would suit the other Houses just as well, if not better_ ,” said the small voice. “ _It's all here in your head... you would do well in all,_ but, _you would do great in_ —

 

- _SLYTHERIN_!”

 

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Slytherin table. He was so relieved to finally have been sorted (as well as still confused by all the Hat had said), he was hardly aware of the cheers or the continued stares from staff, students and ghost that followed him.

It only once reaching the table that he caught Severus’ eye and noticed that the other boy had already shifted a spot next to him for Harry. Harry quickly sat down next to him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\- Verne as the name of the Giant Squid is in reference to the French Author of _Twenty Leagues Under the Sea_ , Jules Verne.


	4. The House of Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's introduction to Slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some passages taken directly from HP&TPS, HP&TCOS, HP&TPOA, and HP&TOOTP

 

 

“Welcome!”

Seated and infinitely relieved, Harry looked back to the front. Both hat and stool had been put away, Professor McGonagall was seated, while Professor Dumbledore remained standing, arms out wide in, _well_ – _welcome_.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I am pleased to introduce two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Madam Bones, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

A square-jawed witch with close-cropped grey hair, possibly in her fifties or sixties, gave a short wave and nod to the students. As the tables clapped, Harry couldn’t help but think she would get on well with Professor McGonagall, looking just as serious. He also noticed some of the students, mostly the older ones, had straightened at the name and were eyeing the new teacher with blatant curiosity.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the applause (but not the interest) for Madam Bones died down. “Regrettably, Professor Davis retired at the end of last year. However, I am delighted to say that his place as Charms teacher will be filled by Professor Flitwick,” indicating another wizard at the table.

Harry tried not to gape, all whilst wondering if he would have noticed the wizard if Professor Dumbledore hadn’t pointed him out. The new Charms teacher was _tiny_ ; he even appeared to be sitting on a stack of pillows to be able to see the whole of the Great Hall, and wave cheerily at the students.

 

The clapping died down once more and Dumbledore smiled, “Well, I think that’s everything of importance. Let the feast begin!”

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink.

This time Harry's mouth _did_ fall open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs...

Still, not wanting to make himself sick on his first day and bring even more attention to himself than he already had, Harry carefully pilled only the things he wanted most. (He had a whole year of meals to try the rest.)

It was _delicious_.

It was so good in fact it took him a few bites of his steak to notice the ghastly-looking ghost from earlier, with the silver blood and chains, floating to Harry’s right, thankfully no longer looking furious. He remembered Alice referring to him as the ‘Bloody Baron’ – the Slytherin House’s ghost.

He was unsure _if_ he say something or what, though most likely _not_ call him ‘Bloody Baron’ to his face. Ultimately, remembering Aunt Petunia’s incessant lectures through the years about the members of the peerage - _well_ on those she read about in her gossip magazines, Harry gave the ghost a sort of nod-bow, “M-my Lord.”  1

The gaunt face stayed in the same blank stare, but the ghost acknowledged his address and returned it in kind, with a slight tilt of the head, “Mr. Potter. Welcome to the House of Slytherin.”

“T-thank you, my lord.” Harry shifted slightly. His thoughts going to his conversation with the hat, his curiosity got the better of him and Harry couldn’t help but ask, “H-have you been in Slytherin’s House a long time? That is—”

“Over nine hundred years.”

Harry’s eyes widened all while trying not to gape. He looked around the room to the other floating spirits, before looking back at the Baron. “Are there many ghosts who have been in the castle as long as your lordship?”

“Only the Grey Lady – the resident ghost of Ravenclaw,” was all he supplied. He gave Harry another nod, “Mr Potter,” to float further down the table.

As soon as he did, before Harry had a chance to look towards the table beneath the bronze and blue Eagle banners, Bertram Aubrey, the first boy to have been sorted, scrunched his nose, his face a mix of confusion and curiosity, “Why did you keep calling him, ‘ _My lord_ ’?”

Harry blinked at him, “He’s a Baron, right? Or, at least, he was...”

“Just so Potter,” The blonde haired teen with a pointed pale face, seated on Severus’ right gave him a nod of approval. “It’s good to know some purebloods still know their manners”, the comment concluding with a rather pinched look to the other first year.

His piercing grey eyes returned to Harry, the introduction, “Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy,” was completed with a formal nod.

The drawl in his voice, his manner and name, all gave off a rather _pompous_ air. Nor could Harry call him _friendly_. Harry actually found Lucius Malfoy having been rather harsh with Bertram Aubrey. Similar to the Baron and a few others he had noticed, the older boy held himself rather stiffly – _stilted_ , like the members of the aristocracy and gentry in Aunt Petunia’s TV dramas. (The comparison actually made him briefly wonder if the wealth-high society aspect would outweigh the ‘freakness’ of being a wizard in his Uncle and Aunt’s mind. Probably not.)

Still, Harry also noted the shiny badge with a green ‘P’ on the teen’s chest. With the earlier comment from Fabian Prewett about his twin being a prefect for Gryffindor, he recognized that it would be best to stay on this Slytherin’s good side. Besides Lucius Malfoy had technically complemented him (all while bringing the other boy down), and he had (more-or-less) civilly introduced himself.

Harry awkwardly returned the nod, “Hadrian Potter.”

“A Black in Gryffindor and a Potter in Slytherin – I’ve seen it all,” drawled another older teen. The pug-faced wizard peered down at Harry with obvious curiosity, “So Potter – what did you tell that old hat to convince him to put you in Slytherin?”

“ _Parkinson_ ; what did we _just_ say about _manners_?” said Lucius Malfoy, with a quelling look to the other boy. Turning back to Harry, he waved carelessly to the other teen now scowling, “Potter, this is Bellerophon Parkinson. Do excuse his uncouth manner; he is still sour for not having reached the ranks of Prefect.”

Parkinson flushed, only glared back at Malfoy. Harry would have assumed in anger and humiliation, but given the few following not-so-covert glances he gave a pretty blonde witch wearing a prefect badge, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she was part of the reason Bellerophon Parkinson had wanted to be chosen as prefect.

Further down Harry also noticed another brown-haired teen – and wearing the shiny coveted ‘P’ badge – looking rather pleased with himself, all while eyeing Parkinson with a small amount of glee on his face, clearly listening to the conversation.

 

“ _Still_ ,” Malfoy called back the attention to himself, “seeing as Parkinson _did_ raise the issue, and that the whole incident surrounding your sorting brought a level of interest from all, I do hope you excuse the possible indelicate manner of my question, Potter, when I ask if you are of Charlus Potter’s line of the family, or...” his grey eyes briefly flickered to the other side of the Hall, “closer to Fleamont Potter’s side? Especially given the lack of acknowledgement between James Potter and yourself, or that he is even now glancing this way -in typical Gryffindor fashion- looking at you with blatant curiosity.”

At the remark, Harry couldn’t help but glance to the other side of the hall. Sure enough, his not-twin was half-standing, his mouth slightly open, looking straight at him, scrutinising him. Their eyes met, for the other to tilt his head to the side, before he seemed to call out to Remus sitting two seats away, to look back at Harry.

Not that he was the only one looking at Harry. Following Malfoy’s question, several – including Parkinson, and the two other prefects – seemed to straighten at the question, their eyes going between Harry, Malfoy, and, for those facing the Hall, the Gryffindor table.

As for Harry, he couldn’t help but look between Malfoy and James Potter, just as interested in learning about ‘Charlus’ and ‘Fleamont’ Potters as they all seemed to be with him.

With it, unfortunately, also came, with no small amount of dread, another thought. One that had been plaguing the back of Harry’s mind for the past hour or so; what had happened to these magical Potters in the next twenty years? Had any of them known about him, but had not wanted him?

Shifting uncomfortably, looking more at his plate than Malfoy or James Potter or any of the others, he answered truthfully, “I haven’t ever met James Potter before. I didn’t know he existed until today. As for Charlus Potter and Fleamont Potter, I... I’m not sure if I’m related to either.”

At the several raised eyebrows and even frowns, Harry mumbled about being raised by his mother’s side. Understanding shown on the blonde’s face, as well as a few others. With a possible note of distain, Malfoy clarified, “the squib aunt you mentioned to the Headmaster?”

Harry gave a nod, “My aunt, as well as my uncle and cousin.”

“ _Wait_ – you told Dumbledore that you didn’t have an owl yet,” exclaimed a boy Harry recognised as another first years, who he couldn’t remember the name of, “do you mean to say that you were raised by a squib and _muggles_?” from the tone of his question, it was clear that the concept was fantastical to him.

The reactions of several others were worse, going by their grimaces and even a look of horror from one witch.

Taken aback by the amount of vehemence, Harry only found himself able to nod, which lead to more looks of distaste and even a few expletives.

The first year though only stared all the more curiously at him, “What are they like?”

“Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though.”

Which lead to another string of oaths and exclamations; Harry heard Parkinson call out, “ _Disgraceful_ ; to think that a pureblood scion is raised by lesser... _beings_ ”; A snotty-nosed girl said something about “Surely something should be done.”

He did, however, notice a few, including Malfoy and the blonde witch, as well as Severus remained quiet. Although, both Malfoy and the other prefect were looking at Harry like he was a puzzle they had yet to solve, the witch appearing to be taking in the whole of his appearance. On the other hand, Severus and a few others had their gazes fixed on the table and plates.

 

Thankfully though, it was soon after that the table was distracted by the platters of food vanishing, to be replaced by an array of deserts, only a few of which Harry recognised.

With it, others talked about their families, as well as further introductions (the boy intrigued by the idea of being raised by muggles turned out to be called ‘David Vaisey’). Like Alice, some of the other first years turned out to have older siblings or cousins already at Hogwarts. Cecily Bletchley had an older sister in fifth year. Tacita Greengrass, a rather shy witch, was cousins with the seventh year prefect (a tall, good-looking, light-brown haired boy by the end of the table), and the Fawley sisters in the other houses.

Harry was also given an explanation to Parkinson’s earlier remark and the varied reactions to Sirius Black’s sorting. It had come as a shock, especially to Slytherin and their Head of House, Professor Slughorn (the large-bellied man that had looked peeved during the sorting), given that the whole Black family (who Harry quickly came to understand was one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in Britain, one who was in some way related to the other wizard families) was said to always be sorted into Slytherin; two of its members were in the older years, one being the blonde prefect.

Talk progressed to what each was most looking forward to. Several of the boys, Vaisey as well as ‘Kevin Harper’ and ‘Thomas Urquhart’ were eager about flying, talking to the older students about the lessons and, mainly, the Quidditch teams. 'Emily Bole' and 'Magenta Baddock' seemed more interested in Herbology, 'Sally Farley' in Astrology, while 'William Pritchard', 'Hesper Stebbins' and Severus (and Harry) were the most interested in Defence Against the Dark Arts. In fact, whilst there was an obvious level of interest for both new staff members across the table, a larger portion was reserved for the Defence witch. From the remarks of older years, it was clear that Madam Bones was some kind of known figure in the wizarding community. (There was also the mystery of the two previous teachers having left after only teaching one year.)

 

The feast ended with all the food and drinks disappearing, and the Headmaster making a final speech. He warned students not to go within the Forbidden Forest, or to disturb the newly-planted Whomping Willow, who allegedly retaliated if felt threatened. The strange comment was quickly passed over with a reminder that magic was not to be used in the corridors between classes, and that Quidditch trials would be held the second week of term; for the actual days, students were to check their House’s board in the coming days or contact Madam Hooch.

He gave a few parting words, wishing both students and staff a pleasant night, and the students were off, rising and moving through the large oak doors to their dormitories.

 

The boy who had sneered at Parkinson earlier and the Black witch assembled the Slytherin first years together, for the boy to speak, “For those who don’t yet know: I’m David Higgs, and this is Miss Narcissa Black; we’re the fifth year prefects. Once in the Slytherin Dungeons, we will speak further.”

Severus must have noticed the scepticism on Harry’s face at the mention of _dungeons_ , since he tilted his head and whispered softly, so only Harry could hear, “He means the Slytherin Common Room and dormitories.”

Somewhat relieved, both boys followed after the rest of the first years through a series of corridors and down several staircases. The journey went on for so long that Harry wondered how he would be able to find the way back up to the Entrance and Great Hall; his full-stomach and general tiredness didn’t help either.

It was only when they reached a certain stretch of bare, damp stone wall that they stopped, to which Higgs said, “ _Conjunctio_.”  2

A stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Black, followed by Higgs marched through it, the first years scrambling behind them. The Slytherin Common Room was a long, low underground space with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, several fauteuils, high-back chairs and sofas surrounded it as well as being positioned around the room, usually around tables.

Some of the armchairs were already occupied by older students who had arrived before them; Harry recognised Parkinson, amidst a group of boys his age, while sending glares at the back of a recognisable pale-blonde head; Malfoy was to the side, deep in conversation with another teen of a similar high and build, though with dark brown hair and a stronger, square jaw line. As if feeling another’s gaze on him, the other boy’s eyes moved from Malfoy, to meet Harry’s, before Higgs called out to the first years.

Looking back to the prefects, Harry realised that the blonde witch had separated from her associate, to... to a corner of the room, where she was whispering rapidly with another witch with light brown hair, a prefect badge also pined on her robes.

It was the prefect Landon Greengrass who now stood next to Higgs.

“Welcome to Salazar Slytherin’s House,” his voice soft and controlled; Greengrass evidently knew that speaking any louder was unnecessary, with most of the chatter ceasing with his words.

His eyes went over all the first years, his gaze staying a little longer on his cousin as well as on Harry, before he continued.

“I am Landon Greengrass, seventh year prefect. Our Head of House, Professor Slughorn, myself, the other prefects, as well as the rest of the house, are here to welcome, assist and guide you through the next seven years...” The comment seemed to be as much for the first years as for the rest of the common room. “As you will be doing to for each other as well as future members. As far as we’re concerned, once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours. And Slytherins look after our own. (Something that can easily be forgotten in Ravenclaw.)

 _However_ , this does not mean we are here to pander your every whim. If you wanted to be coddled you should have gone into Hufflepuff. Nor are we as tolerant of foolish actions as our Gryffindor counterparts. You are in the house of the _resourceful_... _cunning_... _ambitious_... We require a higher standard than the other houses claim of their fellow members. The sorting hat placed you in our house because you have the potential to be _great_. We play to win, because we care about the honour and traditions of Salazar Slytherin.

A certain level of ignorance and unaware is understandable, of course. You have only just arrived; some of you being even more uneducated to our house and history than others. It would be thoughtless not to allow a certain amount of leniency. _Nevertheless_ , it would be remiss of me not to advise you— _encourage_ you to not only recognise any weakness or failing within yourself, but do all in your power to improve upon it... or at the very least use that amount of cunning, resourcefulness and determination that placed you with us, to ensure that none can hold them against you.

I believe all is left to say now is that, as you witnessed a few moments ago, our common room lies behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons, opened by password – currently _Conjunctio_ , which changes every two weeks. Keep an eye on the notice board. Fair warning: sharing any present or past Slytherin password will _not_ be tolerated.

Now off to your dormitories; Black will lead the girls to theirs and Hig—” Greengrass abruptly stopped, eyes going past the group, to swiftly amend his previous statement, “ _Warrington_ will be leading the girls to your dormitory, and Higgs will lead the boys to yours.”

 

Harry was about to follow after the other first years when he heard his name being called. He turned to find both Narcissa Black and the other prefect witch she had been speaking with earlier looking expectantly at him.

He gave Severus, whose suspicious gaze was going between Harry and the two prefects, a quick nod, before separating himself from the group and go to the two witches.

It was only once he was closer that Harry observed the similarities between the two witches; While the older witch hair was darker – light brown to Narcissa Black’s blonde – both had the same shape face and wide blue eyes (the older ones possibly being slightly darker, though it could also easily be a trick of the dimmed lighting).

The unknown witch smiled gently at him, before offering her hand, “Mr Potter, welcome to Hogwarts and Slytherin. I am Andromeda Black, and this is my sister, Narcissa Black.”

Harry shook it, as well as Narcissa Black’s – “T-thank you, Miss Black... Miss Black; it’s nice to meet you,” unable to stop himself from giving both witches a small bow with the introductions.

Andromeda then pulled out her wand and for him to watch as much as feel her silently cast a spell, forming some sort of invisible bubble around the three of them.

At Harry’s questioning gaze, she spoke once more, “I hope you will excuse the secrecy. Given that this is a private matter, a certain level of discretion is best; which brings me to the reason for calling you over and our subterfuge... Potter, as all have noticed, your arrival at Hogwarts started with a certain level of strangeness. To which, Narcissa informs me that during the feast a few... _troubling_ pieces of information about yourself were brought to light. Before possibly addressing these with you, my sister judiciously thought it best to share these with me.”

Harry continued to stare at both witches, waiting for more, as he became more and more puzzled as to why they were giving him any special attention. Both undoubtedly noticed his confusion, as Narcissa Black elucidated, “you may not be aware Potter, but our Great Aunt Dorea is married to Charlus Potter.-”

Harry blinked.

“-Now while you might not have any knowledge of Charlus or Fleamont Potter, I can assure you, you possess several key features of the line; not to mention your uncanny resemblance to Fleamont Potter’s son. I hope you are not offended when I say that I also couldn’t help but notice a certain... _lack_ of care and wellbeing to your person,” her eyes trailing the length of him, having noticed his scar, taped glasses and plain robes. “Truthfully, while there is a chance that you do not also have Black blood, to know of a wizard – one of a pureblood line at that - being raised by... _mu_ —”

“- _Cissy_.” There was a note of reproach in Andromeda’s voice. Looking back at Harry her face softened, “What my sister is attempting to say is, given our possible family link as well as learning of the several worrying bits about yourself, none of this sits right with us. You mentioned a squib aunt, would you mind telling us what happened to your parents?”

Harry shifted, looking down at his fingers knitted together, “They were killed.”

“Killed?”

“By another wizard, when I was still a baby.”

There was a pause, both witches processing the information, before Andromeda said, “Potter, if you are amiable, we would like to contact our great aunt and her husband, ask them if they have any knowledge of yourself as well as share our concerns with regards to your current guardianship arrangements?”

Harry went cold then. He quickly became torn between wanting to know more about the Potter family, the chance that he could be placed with relatives that weren’t the Dursleys, the slim possibility that they were worse than the Dursleys but with magic, or the dreadful possibly that these Potters didn’t want him.

Andromeda Black must had read some his worries on his face, as she added, “In honesty Potter, both Narcissa and I can’t believe that any of the Potters would leave any of their own behind. To put it bluntly, they are known for being... _sensative_ to lesser wizards and witches and the unfortunate. The head of the house, Henry Potter, Fleamont’s father and Charlus’ uncle, wouldn’t have allowed for such a thing to happen to one its members. Neither would Charlus or Fleamont. Truthfully, there have been rumours that both sides of the family have had trouble with continuing the line –”

“– _Dory_ ,” it was now Narcissa Black’s time to rebuke her sister with pursed lips. “We shouldn’t talk of such things.”

Thankfully, the discussion resolved quickly after that; Harry conceded that it would probably be best to at least contact these other Potters and possibly get some information.

With a few words of comfort and support, the two Black prefects proceeded to lead Harry through the opening which Higgs had previously taken Severus and the other boys, to go up a long cavernous corridor, to finally arrive at a thick wooden door with intricate scenes carved into it, a sign above stating: “ _First Year – Boys_ ”.

Not wanting to seem in any ungrateful, he quickly thanked both witches once more, as well as wished them ‘goodnight’, both which they returned with a smile, all while both clearly waiting for him to go into his dorm room before leaving.

 

Harry entered to a surprisingly well lit circular room.

In addition to several lamps on the walls, a fireplace stood facing the sofa and armchairs. On the other half of the room, was a semicircle of beds, to which long windows stood next to each. These and a skylight in the high ceiling above, provided a soft glow, all while presenting views of inside the lake; rays of light filtered through the water, allowing glimpses of fish and underwater plants. It made Harry think of the aquarium walls in the zoo he had gone with the Dursleys.

At the sight of the beds though, Harry suddenly found himself _exhausted_. He proceeded to cross the room to the arc of four-poster beds. Any further study of the room and any other part of the Slytherin Dungeons could be done tomorrow, after classes. Not to mention, the other boys were already changing from of their robes.

He moved to the only bed not yet paired, further reassured when he observed his trunk at the end of it. He was also pleased to notice his bed was between Urquart and Severus, whose bed was at the end of the semi-circle.

Severus himself was by his bed, half-hidden in the drapes, already in a grey nightgown that reached just above his ankles. He looked up when Harry was nearly by his side, to seem to deflate slightly when noticing who it was. Harry gave him a small smile, which the other boy returned before continuing to be putting his things away.

Moving to his own trunk, Harry only half-listened as Harper, Vaisey and Urquhart, now all also in long nightshirts (clearly a wizard-thing) seemed to be discussing the broom sport and something about harpies. Aubrey and Pritchard, nowhere to be seen, Harry assumed they were most likely in the bathroom.

With a sigh, he pulled out one of Dudley’s plainer-looking old shirts. Conscious of both his chosen night ware and skinny body, Harry quickly moved to his bed and changed, the shirt so large it actually covered most of his body falling down to his knees.

Ignoring any possible stares, he promptly sunk within the softest sheets and most comfortable mattress he had ever been in.

Harry barely heard Severus ask about the Black witches, before his eyes closed on their own accord and he fell asleep almost at once.

 

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because his dream was even stranger than usual...

 

He was standing in a large, dark curtained room. It’s only light was from the fire contained within the hearth. The flames created shadows across the bare walls adding a strange glow to the space...

He twirled a wand between long pale fingers... The carpet sunk beneath his feet as he paced the length of the room... Harry was wearing wizard robes. Not his Hogwarts ones, but longer more stately ones.

 

Silence reign through the space but for the crackle from the flames and logs. There were no portraits on the walls; all access controlled and granted only by him, the only of other occupant was the large snake coiled on itself in front of the fireplace, sleeping... 3

And yet, displeasure and uncertainty continued to thrum through him; mind and body shaken...

Hours later, he still didn’t understand _what_ had happened? _How_ it had happened? One moment to the next his body had not felt his own; a sudden inexplicable, uncontrollable sensation had run through him, leaving him feeling as if he had been jerked by a tricked portkey... And, just as suddenly as it had started, it _stopped_ , him finding himself in exactly the same place as before... Casting a _Tempus_ had proved only mere seconds had elapsed...

He had immediately sent a number of spells on himself as well as across the room, and yet nothing revealed to be out of place – no intruder, with only Masana3 as the other occupant of the manor. His detectors and sensors had revealed nothing either.

He had of course feared for his secrets, his treasures, his safeguards, his anchors to immortality then. Those closest - the locket, the cup and the diary - had been the firsts to be confirmed were still safe. He had then gone to the shack to check on his initial Horcrux; also unharmed, untouched. The ring was secure. Still, he had added a few more curses and wards to the both the object and the space, even if the worry was superfluous; No one had ever known him to be related to the Gaunts, he had hidden the connection, the killings had never been traced to him.

Irritation ran through him, though, thinking of his last one. The one he was unable to check on; inaccessible to him. But a modicum of calm cooled his anger: He alone knew where in Hogwarts he had stowed the diadem, because he alone had plumbed the deepest secrets of that place...—

- _And yet_ ; Fury and frustration rose higher within him as his thoughts returned to the matter at hand. Hours had passed and still any explanation for the sudden occurrence of the morning _still_ eluded him.

He paced further across the room.

True, he hadn’t been harmed in any way. But, for even a few seconds, his body had no longer been under his own control. _Something_ had happened, to _him_.

That was _unacceptable_.

 _Something_ , which he could not explain; to which came the more alarming possibility that whatever had occurred could happen again - could do so at a crucial, more ill-timed moment.

While he had the slim advantage of not being caught as unaware this possible next time round, he had no idea of how to react to stop it and find its source. Nor could he currently think of any basis to research on.

It troubled him... and those things that troubled—

\- A succession of knocks broke through his thoughts and the surrounding silence.

Anger ran through him at the interruption; the temptation to send a few _Crucio_ to whoever was passed the door rose within him.

 _No_.

His wand in his hands, its magic thrumming through his fingers, calmed him. He reminded himself that the knock was expected. Lestrange was expected with news from Hogwarts.

 

Eyes fixed on the fireplace, he called out, “Enter,” his voice far deeper than usual.

He heard the door open and close, the steps and swish of another moving further into the room, for another voice to whisper, “My Lord.”

When he turned, it was to find a man in black robes kneeling before him.

“What news?” His mood was too thin for inane talk.

“The Auror Gillian Bones has taken the Defence post -”

 _Gillian Bones. Yes_ – the choice made sense. A senior Auror; competent, straightforward, most adept in using charms and hexes in a duel, if he wasn’t mistaken. The witch had graduated one or two years before he had started at Hogwarts.

“- Davis left as we knew he had; a Flitwick – Filius Flitwick – has replaced him,” the name said with distaste. There was only a slight pause for the reason behind Lestrange’s aversion to come a moment later, “most who Rabastan spoke to agree that he is a half-breed, goblin or elf blood running through his veins.”

He hummed silently at the information. _Dumbledore does like his half-breeds_.

Still, it would be foolish not to acknowledge that half-breeds had their uses. He had spent enough time around that oaf Hagrid to know that, for all his brainlessness, he had a certain inclination and skill with magical beasts, not to mention his giant’s blood made him more resistant in an attack, magical or otherwise. In any case, there was no denying that the oaf had been more than useful while he had been at school.

Not that he shared any of this with Lestrange. Let the wizard flounder in his inbreeding ideals. Instead, he momentarily wondered how whatever creature blood this Flitwick affected the new professor’s magic and skill. The thought would be to be delved into at a later date.

“And the students?”

“Head Boy: Fenwick -”

He quickly recognised the name, the boy having been previously mentioned. The choice made sense; – talented, he was also one of Dumbledore’s Gryffindors and favourites. No doubt the old man would be recruiting his support.

“-Head Girl: Frances Burnett-”

His mind quickly sorted itself, until the answer came forth – _Hufflepuff_. The witch was in old Slughorn’s little club. She had a talent for Transfiguration and Arithmancy, with already an apprenticeship lined up with the numerologist Sextilius Vector 4 according to Lestrange’s older son. Like most badger, she was known to be fair and supportive of others.

“In the new Prefects – as we previously knew: Narcissa Black for Slytherin. With her, Slughorn selected David Higgs, a half-blood, but with skill in Potions (probably why he was chosen) and Defence, as well as Chaser. In Gryffindor: Daniel Boot, a relative of the previous Minister, and Merida McFusty, of the McFusty clan. Hufflepuff: Adam Stump and Gwendolen MacMillan, no real discernible talent as far as Rabastan can tell but both are in Slughorn’s Club for their famous ancestors and line. Ravenclaw: John McKinnon, highest scores in the year for three of the core subjects, and Elladora Fancourt, related to the inventor.”

It took a moment to catalogue it all. “And the new students?”

“The Greengrass girl in Slytherin as anticipated, the pureblood families Aubrey and Urquhart each have a son sorted in the House. The Longbottom boy, unlike his older cousin, was sorted in Ravenclaw. The Fawley twins in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively-”

He held back a snort; trust Lestrange, whether it was father or son, to focus on purebloods, especially those of the so called ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’. Then again, they had the potential of being the most useful.

“-The Shafiq girl also in Hufflepuff...-” there was a small pause, before Lestrange added, “... Arcturus Black’s grandson was placed in Gryffindor.”

A small jolt of surprise ran through him. By the pause and Lestrange’s tone it was clear the news had been a surprise to the other wizard as well.

He only knew of Blacks that had been sorted to Slytherin. The boy’s aunt – Lucretia - had been in Slytherin two years above and the father - Orion - three years below him. The mother – Wa- _something_ \- and her siblings had come later, when he had already left, but he was certain that they had been in Slytherin as well. 5 Another matter to be looked into further later.

“Any others?”

“Orpington, grandniece to past Minister, was placed in Ravenclaw, unlike her older brother in Gryffindor. The Pithos girl was also placed in Ravenclaw. And Bobbin, son of the apothecaries chain proprietor, was also placed in Ravenclaw; no doubt old-Sluggy will be keeping an eye on him...-”

He felt as much as saw Lestrange shift, in a moment of hesitation, then.

Irritation rose within him at this newest faltering. The pause made him wonder if it would be better just to _Legilimens_ him – or have had the letter sent directly to him, however distasteful the thought of reading the scion’s drivel may be.

“What else?” eerie only rising further at the fact that he had to even ask.

“Potters; there are two of them apparently.”

“Two?”

Potters. Impatience throbbed through him as it took him a while to sort through and find what little he had on them. Purebloods, but for some reason had not been considered ‘pure’ enough to make Cantankerus Nott’s ridiculous list. (Though he supposed there was the argument that Nott had wanted a formidable number; both seven and fourteen would have been too restrained a list, and 35 not exclusive enough.) Then again, the cut was most likely also in link with the head of the family: Henry Potter, and his pro-muggle views from his time on the Wizengamot. His son, Fleamont, was an inventor – beauty products and the like. And a nephew, Charles... no— _Charlus_ , who had a voice in the political sphere. While it was Fleamont’s son – now possibly son ** _s_** – who entered Hogwarts, he was sure both Fleamont and Charlus had been before his time at Hogwarts, as well as near certain that neither had been in Slytherin. The family was known for being well off, as well as liked by most. He could easily see the old man trying to get some support through them.

“ _Two_ ,” Lestrange quickly confirmed. “Second one caused quite a commotion. The Deputy Head thought he was a younger brat that had been smuggled in by his older sibling; especially since he is apparently a good head shorter than the other one, scrawnier too. To make matters all the more peculiar, he was then sorted in Slytherin. The whole family’s been in Gryffindor as far as I can remember-”

One in Gryffindor, the other in Slytherin; _yes_ , that was quite a revelation.

“-They’re not brothers though. The boy’s been raised by his squib aunt and her _muggle_ family-”, there was no covering the disgust in his voice then, “-Rabastan says the two Black witches think he might be related to their Great Aunt Dorea Black, married to Charlus Potter.”

 _Slytherin. From a Pureblood line. Raised by muggles. Most likely orphan_. He briefly wondered how the boys’ muggle upbringing faired in comparison to his own. The mere fact that the boy hadn’t needed to survive through a war made it already an improvement to his own.

Still, any possible alteration from the norm should not be dismissed; especially one in Slytherin and possibly linked with a family as powerful as the Blacks.

Assuming Lestrange had saved the odd Potter event for last, he moved on to the next matter, “And how goes the recruiting? Will there be new faces at the next gathering?”

“Rabastan was able to speak with a few on the train and later on in the Common Room. Malfoy’s boy expressed his interest in coming, as well as Crabbe and Goyle. The Yaxley heir and Selwyn witch in Ravenclaw also show potential according to Rosier’s boy. Neither had a chance to talk to younger years though—”

“-Nor should they,” anger and frustration momentarily throbbed through him. At times he truly despaired for the wizarding race. He was tempted to send a _Crucio_ on the man, for his words to sink in.

But _no_... It would be unnecessary, quite unnecessary.

He twirled the wand in his hands, willing the smallest degree of calm to cool his anger.

“The younger they are, the more foolish and blundering they will be; only increasing the chances of letting something slip at an inopportune moment. We are only at the _beginning_ , Lestrange. Like a snake in the grass, _patience_ and _delicacy_ are needed above all else at this moment, before finding the right moment to _strike_. However powerful Dumbledore might think he is, he is not all knowing. He might speculate and even think he knows what we are doing; it is key to leave him in the dark as much as possible. Others will be told of our word in due time. – Besides, what is more tempting than half-heard whispers, brief mentions of something secret and exclusive.”

“O-of course, My Lord...” Lestrange blabbered, his body trembled momentarily. “... It was foolish of me to even —”

“Stand up, Lestrange,” he whispered, unable to stand anymore of the blether.

The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at his face.

“You and your son have done well. Your family have Lord Voldemort’s gratitude, Lestrange...”

“My Lord... thank you, My Lord,” gasped the wizard, his voice filled with relief.

“I shall need all the information your son can give me. Make certain that he sends word of any news or change from the norm – however trivial it may be...”

“Of course, My Lord, of course... _anything_...”

The comment reminded him of the small golden cup he had taken from the simpering, fat hag. How he had been recently thinking of rewarding one of his most loyal with it. The diary was too dangerous to pass, as all his most devout had seen it too often during their school days. And he preferred keeping the locket close at hand; he was Slytherin’s heir after all. None knew about the cup but him though. Lestrange had undoubtedly been loyal through the years. He would never tell him what it was, obviously. He scoffed internally; there was the possibility that Lestrange would even recognise the cup. He would identify it as goblin-made, of course. Also recognise the dark power that surrounded it, but as for the treasure itself, anything not Slytherin was easily deemed not for the wizard. – More the fool to him.

But for now...

... _No_ , he would wait. Something so crucial needed _certainties_.

In any case, he still had to resolve this other issue, before possibly gifting one of his treasures to any of his followers.

Irritation pulsing anew through him at the reminder, he turned away from the other wizard, dismissing him. “Very well... you may go. And do make sure to warn your son about mentioning our cause to the younger students.”

“ _My Lord_.”

 

There was the sound of shifting.

The door opened and closed.

A burst of red light from the wand hit the fireplace.

The snake hissed in displeasure.

 

And Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

 

Taking in large gulps of air, he felt his heart beat gradually slow down.

Trying to get his bearings, it took him a moment to realise he was still wearing his glasses, and then recognise the unfamiliar space.

He was at Hogwarts, in the Slytherin dormitories.

Looking around, he noticed that his drapes were still open, having evidentially forgotten to close them before falling asleep. It was then that he suddenly saw with a jolt two black eyes glowing through the near-darkness, looking straight at him from the adjacent bed.

Neither made a sound or said anything for a long while, until Severus turned over.

Removing Dudley’s old now damp shirt, Harry quickly pulled out a new one from the trunk, before sinking back into the bed sheets.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 \- For those interested:
> 
> <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forms_of_address_in_the_United_Kingdom#Peers,_peeresses_and_non-peerage>
> 
> 2 \- ‘Conjunctio’: Latin for ‘conjunction’. It is in link/reference to the 1st password in HP&TPS ‘Caput Draconis’ (‘Head of the Dragon’). Both are neutral geometric figures in divination (good with good, evil with evil). ‘Caput Draconis’ is favourable for beginnings and profit, and otherwise favourable with other favourable figures, and unfavourable with unfavourable ones; linked with fire. ‘Conjunctio’ resembles a crossroads or joining of 2 figures. The sign is neutral in meaning, but good with joining or recovering things, especially relationships. It represents a combination of forces, for good or ill. By itself, it is neutral, only becoming favourable or not by other figures around it. Its outer element is earth, while its inner element is air. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geomantic_figures#Cauda_Draconis>
> 
> 3 – Given his proclivity to snakes, as well as most people after the first war knew that Voldemort was a parselmouth, I’m assuming that he had at least one with him as company during this period (Nagini coming later).
> 
> The name ‘Masana’ comes from: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snake_worship>
> 
> 4 – related to Professor Septima Vector from cannon; name in related to ‘Sextus’ meaning sixth (Septima meaning ‘seventh’); <https://www.behindthename.com/name/sextus/related>
> 
> 5 – Some of the dates JKR gave on the Black tapestry (namely Lucretia’s and Walburga’s) have always bothered me, so I changed them slightly for this story; Lucretia – changing 1915 to 1925 / Walburga – changing 1925 to 1935 – as I feel it would make more sense with regards to their parents ages when they had them and for them to be in the same decade as their siblings. Thus: Lucretia started Hogwarts 2 years before TR and Orion – 2 or 3 years after TR.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude to what is happening back in 1991.

 

 

He moved swiftly up and through the varying maze of stairs and corridors between his private chambers and great hall. Naturally, this was all while he silently wished he was reading the latest _Practical Potioneers_ in the dark-green armchair Lucius had gifted him three years ago, with his preferred brew of Lapsang Souchong on the side table.

But no, instead Severus Snape, Potion Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, counted down the list of potions he still had to finish. Poppy’s list was near complete; only the last batches of Essence of Dittany, Blood Replenishing, and Boil Cure remained, all currently softly simmering in their cauldrons. It was the few additional ones he knew would be best to also make that now ran through his mind, knowing that they would be required in the coming couple of weeks. The first two weeks were always a mix of first years being homesick and the consequential nightmares, the older students seeing friends as well as enemies after several weeks of parting (you could always count on a inter-house rivalry to liven up the hallways), Quidditch trials (with its scrapes, bruises, and possibly unconscious teens), not to mention the Potions accidents he had to look forward to (namely first years, but one should always count on the Weasley menaces to be experimenting or pranking... or both)... and, finally, the few (all years included) whose their parent or guardian had a rather singular definition as to what their role of carer actually meant they should or shouldn’t do to their charge.

And, in the improbable event that his pre-emptive actions were not needed for these first two weeks, there was always the rest of the year.

 _Oh, the joy_.

 

When Severus finally reached the side Great Hall it was to find most of the teacher already there. _Well_ , he _had_ timed it purposefully so as to reduce the amount of possible inane chit-chat one of his fellow teachers might be tempted to pull him into. He gave them a joint short nod, before taking his usual seat (Quirinus dropping the spoon in his hand, when it happened to be the seat next to him).

He did note a few absences though. Hagrid was most likely with the newest batch of dunderheads. As Minerva and Septima were most likely readying (fortifying) themselves for the incoming calamity. (He had always found it apt that it was carriages pulled by death – _well_ , half-dead horses – that brought the army of harum-scarum dunderheads.)

Trelawney’s absence wasn’t unsurprising either; she always waited to the last possible moment to join (even later than him; – once even coming halfway through the sorting). Actually, thinking on it further, he was pretty certain he had heard Minerva complaining about the other teacher earlier, something about ‘ _a dark presence looming within the castle walls_ ’ and ‘ _Mars was being unnaturally bright_ ’ while ‘ _Jupiter was unexpectedly absent_ ’, and thus would most likely not be joining (which was for the best for everyone involved really).

 

Of course, it was soon after he had sat down that a cacophony of yells, laugher, and cries came through the walls; the sound of announcing the oncoming storm, not too different, in his mind, to the overture in a muggle opera, setting the scene to the coming tragedy. In fact, as the students started to walk through the double doors, any improvements Severus’ earlier potion-taking had done to alleviate an ongoing headache were immediately eradicated.

This was the purgatory he had been placed into for his past deeds, Severus was sure of it.

Naturally, it was then that he was reminded that Potter’s brat would be part of the new students, the thought leaving a great amount of distaste in his mouth.

 

Septima entered and joined the Head Table after the last of the pupils had come in. The students finished seating themselves, for the general noise to thankfully quiet down to a soft hum, as all waited for the first years to be brought in.

And yet, the minutes tickled on and none arrived; whether it was in the form of a first year, Transfiguration teacher or half-giant.

Several more minutes passed.

It was only when Dumbledore’s usual irritating twinkle had completely vanished that McGonagall finally walked in.

Severus’ eyes narrowed. For the unobservant, she appeared her normal stern, sharp-tongued self. However, in the time it took the witch to travel swiftly the length of the room, and reach Dumbledore, Severus had noted the slightly paler face to her usual Scottish hue, her lips pursed, the slight twitch at the level of where her left dimple would be – indicating a tightly locked jaw – and that her general countenance was undoubtedly _shaken_.

All this pointed to one conclusion: something was _very_ wrong.

If these weren’t indication enough, the whispering urgently to Dumbledore (a silencing spell surrounding them) and Hagrid now standing by the double doors, eyes on the Headmaster, looking as though he had just been informed that all dragons were to be put down due to their risks on the Statute of Secrecy, did the trick.

Severus was certain of another thing: this had something to do with Potter’s brat. Like his father, he wouldn’t pass on the opportunity for his arrival to come with a (hopefully figurative) _bang_!

 

*****

 

A great unease had settled over the whole of the Great Hall.

Severus wondered if it was the tense looking staff (the most noticeable: Quirrell trembling, Hagrid looking ready to burst into tears at any moment, Minerva even more stone-faced than before, with Severus certain he occasionally heard her fiercely murmuring something about – ‘ _I told him... I had told him_... _warned him_ ’), the three Aurors watching on from the sides of the room (Scrimgeour’s beady eyes landing on Severus every-so-often), or (the most telling) the Headmaster’s absence (still with the Head Auror, as well as now possibly also with a blubbering Minister, trying to placate him), that had tipped off the majority of the student population.

To be fair, it was probably all three as well as the hour that had just passed.

 

In the sixty minutes following the Hogwarts Express’ arrival, the train had been searched, the house elves maintaining it questioned, as well as Dumbledore going to the Three Broomsticks, to speak with both the train’s conductor and trolley witch; all bringing the same conclusion: none had seen the boy during the seven hour journey.

It was only when asking with the Head boy and Head girl and the prefects if they had noticed any younger children by themselves at any point during the day that the eldest of the Weasleys (in those attending the school) mentioned a black-haired boy wearing glasses, alone apart from a trolley packed with a large trunk and a caged white owl, at King’s Cross Station – on the _muggle_ side. This had been confirmed by the twin menaces a few moments later.

Soon after, Dumbledore had disapparated outside the school gates, leaving McGonagall in charge.

The staff’s focus during this time the staff had evidentially been to keep order. This was chiefly trying to quell down any panic and rumours (all having thought it best not to mention that it was Harry Potter, who was now slightly less _Boy-Who-Lived_ and more _Boy-Who-is-Missing_ ). There was also of course making sure none of the brats did anything excessively dim-witted (though, Severus did end up taking points from Gryffindor, confiscating a bag of dungbombs from the Weasley demons, as well as from some more from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for being too loud and being generally hysterical – creating unnecessary alarm – that is, before Minerva had come over to glare at him). Filius had spoken with the house elves in the kitchens (apparently to mainly reassure them that the feast being delayed had nothing to do with their cooking abilities but because of outer forces). To which the elves had sent up jugs of pumpkin juice to the four tables.

And then there had been watching over the arriving first years still in the waiting chamber. When it had been Severus’ turn to check in on the brats, he hadn’t even tried to hold back a sneer as he took in the scene presented in front of him. Albus (going by the level of impressive spell-work, as well as the eyesore bright colours and patterns) had configured a good three dozen plush chairs and leather armchairs, several sofas and chaises-longue, even a few muggle beanbags and even one that appeared to be a chair used in a muggle dentist’s office, with what looked suspiciously like _another_ Weasley brat (how many were they going to inflict on him?) in it talking to a wide-eyed, round-faced boy clutching a toad about something to do with trolls. He had also noticed Lucius’ boy had gone for the most throne-like armchair, complete with even-gilded armrests, with somewhat miniature versions of Frederic Crabbe and Gordian Goyle sitting in two of the beanbags, on each side of the pale blonde boy (both looking about to burst at any moment). A group sitting on bright purple pushchairs had brought out gobblestones; a stout-looking boy with blondish hair seeming to be teaching a curly-haired boy (most likely muggleborn) the rules of the game. Another group had taken out a pack of Exploding Snaps. And a bushy haired girl reading what Severus was certain was a pocketbook sized **_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade_ 2 **(something he knew only existed if the full sized book had been spelled so by a shrinking charm with  _reducio_ the most basic while being a grade 2 spell).

When Dumbledore had returned, it hadn’t been with the Boy-Saviour, but with an apprehensive Madam Amelia Bones and three Aurors in tow. They also brought news that the Weasley Matriarch had in fact interacted with the boy when first arriving at King’s Cross (though not knowing who he was), to show him how to get on the platform, but then had proceeded to lose sight of him given that it was a busy platform and she had been with five ( _five_? – was there _another_ one after this last one?) of her kits with her (- how apt that the collective noun for a group of weasels is a ‘confusion’).[1] The Head of the Auror office, not one to be easily pushed aside (even by the ‘ _Great Albus Dumbledore_ ’) and very much wanting to do her own interviews, had been lead by the Headmaster to all those they had already questioned.

 

The fervent whispers among the students only ceased (for the most part) when the even more than usual befuddled group of first year students (minus one) were _finally_ brought into the Great Hall.

 _Of course_ , the evening’s ‘entertainment’ didn’t end there. (Of course _not_.)

Not once but twice in the first ten sorting did Severus predilection prove wrong (something that had only happened three times beforehand in the span of _ten_ years); both Susan Bones and Terry Boot in Gryffindor, instead of what he had been certain was a Hufflepuff shoe-in for the former and Ravenclaw for the latter. Snape blamed Potter’s brat for his distracted mind.

And then _Gregory Goyle_ was placed into _Hufflepuff_.

Severus was struck dumb. It was all kept well hidden inside him, naturally; His outer mask did not slip even for a second, due to years in Slytherin and of mastering Occlumency. But _still_. Goyle in _Hufflepuff_. For those who knew the Goyle family, including most of the (if-anything-still-had-any-sense-)would-be-Slytherins looked godsmacked, in a _much_ _too_ obvious manner. The miniature Malfoy looked more than put out.

Watching the overly-confused boy, who even started to move towards Vincent Crabbe (looking just as confused), before Minerva stopped him with a hand on the shoulder to guide him to the table with bagder banners above, Severus did wonder what Gordian Goyle would make of his son sorted into the den of the loyal and patient. The boy like his father _was_ loyal (to Malfoy); there was no question about it. With an internal sigh a small part of Severus admitted that that perhaps some distance from the Malfoy scion as well as the house of the cunning and ambitious might do the boy some good. (At least he hadn’t been place into Gryffindor.)

He also conceded a moment later that even the son of ‘Oh-so-brilliant’ Potter could not have _confunded_ such a very powerful magical object so thoroughly and be behind the sorting anomalies. When the bushy-haired girl who had been reading the grade 2 spell book was placed into Gryffindor instead of the obvious Ravenclaw, it only confirmed further that _something_ was terribly wrong with Hogwarts, and that this did not bode well for the rest of the year.

By then, Severus just wanted it all to be over.

 

 _By Merlin_ , he probably wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Grindelwald and Dumbledore had been lovers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ‘unusual sortings’, I always liked to think that while keeping in mind the children’s personalities, Hogwarts/the Sorting Hat do try to keep as much of an even balance as possible between the Four Houses. That with Harry’s ‘absence’ (and Gryffindor having a smaller amount of people than the rest) there was a slight shift in who went where.
> 
> Also, small pointing out/reminder: by 1991 – the Sorting Hat knows what has happened in the past.
> 
> . 
> 
> [1] The weasel young are called **kittens** or **kits**. Collective nouns for a group of weasels include boogle, gang, pack and confusion.


	6. First Day of Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learning a little more on this whole new world he is now a part of.

 

 

 

There was no Aunt Petunia to bang on his cupb— _bedroom_ door to make breakfast. No Uncle Vernon going on about another business deal to secure or a new drill on the market that did even better holes than its predecessors. Nor was there Dudley screeching about not enough bacon in his full English. Though for the last two would not have been at least for another hour if not two. Nevertheless, it having been ingrained out of habit, Harry woke up to the early rays of sunlight shining through the water and chamber’s windows or roof-light, casting a soft glow on the space.

Sitting up, glasses in place, his eyes silently trailed over the beautiful intricate patterns of green and silver woven on the drapes and canopy, before going passed them to the rest of the room.

Perhaps his early wake was also due to the apprehension-excitement running through him, not too dissimilar from yesterday morning’s. It had a few key differences, of course; being the first day of classes (rather than the excitement of taking a magical train to a magical school), the rest of the first years and Slytherin House, his possible magical family, and the small fact that he had apparently been sent twenty years back by the (evidently _very_ ) magical castle, with only a magical Hat also knowing.

Harry looked over to the other beds and their occupants included in the arranged semi-circle. Only Severus’ curtains weren’t full closed; a narrow gap left open which, with the contrast in light with the room, didn’t actually allow a view inside. Still, Harry was certain that whether it was Severus or the others, they were all still sleeping; he could even hear tell-tale soft snores coming from two of the bed.

Appreciative of the silence as well as being unobserved, Harry left the confines of his four-poster bed. He crossed the room to the only other door, parallel to the chamber’s entrance on the other side of the mantelpiece, to find his query: the bathroom.

Used to the Dursleys’ impatient behaviours, it didn’t take long for Harry to shower, dress, as well as general morning readying and making his bed. Thoughts of the upper Slytherin had him taking extra care when putting on his robes, for them to be properly fastened and look tidy, as well as for his hat to be straight and cover as much of his messy hair (which still refused to cooperate). Harry was keen to make a good impression on his first day, especially when the previous evening had already brought him more attention than he would have liked. (Harry did also wear one of Dudley’s shirts and jumpers underneath his robes; regardless of being a magical school, they were ultimately in a medieval castle in Scotland, and sleeping underground in the dungeons.)

It was only once he moved to his trunk, taking out his various books, that Harry paused. He realised he had no idea which subject he would be studying today, thus which book he would need. While the shopkeeper had put a lightening spell on his trunk, they had done no such thing on his school bag; Dudley’s bag from primary that he had gotten when his cousin had gotten his Smeltin’s ‘briefcase’. While not as worn as Harry’s own previous primary school bag, it was undeniably not big enough to hold all his books or be able to take the weight of them.

After a moment’s reflection, Harry left the books ready to be picked up at the top of his trunk, hoping that he would have enough time between receiving his schedule and his first class to retrieve the necessary books. He readied his school bag as best he could with parchment, quill and other items that would be possibly needed. Still early, none of the other boys having yet stirred, Harry left the readied bag on top of his books and closed the trunk.

He didn’t head for breakfast though. While possibly slightly hungry, it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. He was more concerned of leaving the Slytherin Dungeons before he was allowed, or the even more blaring problem of not being able to find his way back to the Great Hall by himself. There had been too many twists and turns and descent of various staircases last night between the Hall and the Slytherin Common Room for him to remember it all. It would be best for him to wait for another to go up with – or better yet, for an upper year to follow.

Still, that didn't mean he would just sit around in wait for others to be ready. Remembering Greengrass’ suggestions from his speech the previous evening, mainly the part about identifying your failing and improving upon them, Harry proceeded to take out his the old muggle notebook left over from primary school as well as his copy of **_A History of Magic_** (his favourite book so far) and headed out of the dorm room.

The Common Room, empty, had the same calm silence as the first year dorm with the only sound, soft crackling, coming from the already lit fireplaces. While momentarily wondering if they had been left on all night – they were in the dungeons after all – Harry moved to one of the tables near to one of the fires, placed book, notepad, quill and ink upon it, and took a seat.

 

 

‘... _Upon the signature of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689, wizards went into hiding for good. It was natural, perhaps, that they formed their own small communities within a community. Many small villages and hamlets attracted several magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection. The villages of Tinworth in Cornwall, Upper Flagley in Yorkshire, and Ottery St Catchpole on the south coast of England were notable homes to knots of Wizarding families who lived alongside tolerant and sometimes Confunded Muggles. Most celebrated of these half-magical dwelling places is, perhaps, Godric's_ —[1]

“-What are you doing?”

Harry jumped at the sudden interruption. Thankfully he was able to stop both chair and himself from falling over in time. His notebook, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky: a long rather violent looking scratch of black ink now crossed most of the page he had been writing on. The nib of his quill was also definitely broken. Rather embarrassed as well as aggravated, he turned to find Severus’ keen black eyes going between paper and book.

The other boy at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic as he looked to Harry. – “Sorry... didn’t mean to scare you.”

Harry pushed back his irritation. It was his own fault for having been so unaware of his surroundings, really; he would never let himself be caught so off guard by Dudley and his friends. And clearly, taking in the no longer empty room, he _had_ _been_ during his writing exercising. Several teens stood or leaned on the arms of some fauteuils close to the room’s main entrance, appearing to be waiting for others. A witch was in one of the armchairs by the largest fireplace, gently stroking a striking fluffy white cat in her lap while reading a large book in her other hand (most likely having been lightened by magic). The young wizard Harry recognised as the one who had been speaking with Malfoy last night was also sat by one of the tables, quill in hand, writing. Even some of the portraits on the walls had stirred from their slumber, looking down on the room’s occupants or to each other.

“ _So_ -” Severus called his attention back to him, “Why are you copying out bits of...” the tall lanky dark-haired boy took a second glance at the text before adding, “ ** _A History of Magic_**?”

And with the question, Harry felt his ears warm further. He paused momentarily, considering, but given that Severus and him had gotten along so far, not to mention he was certain that most of Slytherin by now knew that he had been squib-muggle raised, he revealed awkwardly, “I... after Landon Greengrass’ speech yesterday, I thought it best to... exercise using a quill, instead of a muggle pen, while continuing to read more on the wizarding world.”

Black eyes went once more between book, paper and Harry. There was a long pause before Severus eventually just nodded. Instead of making any further comment on his ‘failings’, Severus stated in a rather important manner, “We should probably head for breakfast; get there early to get our schedules and have time to prepare for our classes.”

Harry’s stomach gave a brief clench then; at the suggestion the small pang of hunger from earlier came back with a vengeance. Knowing he would have less chance to ignore it this time round, Harry promptly agreed, closing both book and notepad, sliding the quill through the binding rings.

Both comment and action proved all the more judicious when, upon Harry standing up, both observed the older students by the entrance, now with two more, were now by the stone wall and it opening. Given their slower pace, the two first years were able to easily catch up with the group, to follow a few paces behind the teens.

While both remained quiet during the walk, preferring to concentrate on the route taken between the dungeons and the Great Hall, once sat at the near-empty Slytherin Table, they started discussing once more their thoughts about the classes and hopes on what to expect, based on their preliminary readings of the books, the snip bits Severus previously knew mainly through his mother, not to mention the small titbits the older students had given the previous day. Severus seemed as interested as Harry by Fabian Prewett’s anecdote about Charms and the spell to achieve levitation.

 

Harry was nearly finished with his small bowl of porridge when Severus asked, “So, what was last night about?”

By the look in his eyes, it had been a question the other first year had been holding for a while, for his curiosity to have obviously ultimately won over. Unfortunately for him, Harry was unsure as to what exactly Severus was referring to: several things had happened last night, not all of which he felt willing to discuss.

At Harry’s confused-guarded look, Severus quickly expanded, “I would ask what happened with the sorting as well as the two prefect sisters, but as I assume the reason the Black witches wanted to talk to you had something to do with your sorting, I will ask: what was that whole thing with your sorting? First not being on the list... and then just taking ages under the hat?” His tone making it all the more obvious that he was no longer able to contain himself.

Under the intensity of the other boy’s gaze, Harry shifted awkwardly, trying to find his words, wondering how much he should say. “We just... talked...” to quickly add when noticing Severus latching on to the word ‘talked’, his black eyes focused all the more on Harry, “he wasn’t sure where to put me; said I was a good fit for all the Houses.”

Finding himself all the more wanting to move on from the topic of the sorting and hat, Harry just as swiftly continued, “As for the Black witches, they... they didn’t actually call me about by sorting; they wanted to talk because apparently Dorea Potter is their Great Aunt.”

Severus turned thoughtful at his answers. As for Harry, in his haste to change the topic from the hat and sorting (as well as intentionally skipping the whole matter of his mysterious absence from the list), he now found himself wondering if he should have revealed the reason for Andromeda and Narcissa’ Black’s inquiries and the possible familial link.

The conversation and their thoughts were broken though by a flutter of noise further down the table. Both boy’s heads turned to find the rotund wizard, Professor Slughorn, moving down the row of Slytherin already eating breakfast, handing out papers, all while greeting them, a welcoming smile visible under the large moustache, even letting out the occasional laugh for a chosen few he stayed longer by the side of.

Severus and Harry both unconsciously found themselves straightening, their previous intrigue of the classes coming once more to the forefront of their minds.

Not to mention, given his rather adverse past relationship with his teachers (from the Dursleys mainly portraying Harry as nothing more than a trouble-maker and attention-seeker, disturbed from his parents’ death), Harry was also eager to make a good impression on his Hogwarts’ teachers, especially his Head of House. He couldn’t help but quickly check that his hat and robes (although not as nice as some of the other Slytherin) were still neat and tidy, without crumbs or stains from breakfast on them, all while reminding himself there wasn’t Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to poison the teacher’s opinion of him (or Dudley to bully other students to not be friends with him).

 

The professor gave a humoured chortle upon reaching them.

“Oho! Seems like we have a few winged-snakes in this group of first years; not yet eight and already eager for the day to start!” Professor Slughorn’s gaze even momentarily went to the history book and notepad Harry had placed next to him on the table, while going between the two boys, before ultimately landing on Harry.

“Welcome to Slytherin Mr Potter,” his welcoming smile growing ever-so-slightly further. “I must say, I can’t think of any Potter being in Slytherin; which isn’t all that surprising given that particular Houses tend remain in families. Funny isn’t it how sometimes you get the odd one out?”

Harry didn’t particularly find it funny, especially when already feeling quite the ‘odd one out’. But he held his tongue. Not that Professor Slughorn seemed all that perturbed by his silence, continuing on, “-Talented family, of course. Why Mr Fleamont Potter was in his second year when old Swoopstikes retired and I took over. He always was quite the brewer. And his knowledge of herbs... only a few have been able to beat it since. I taught his cousin Charlus a few years later; not as adept in potions but no less of a gifted wizard. A splendid dueller, just like his uncle. Jamian Potter was a year above me in school, did you know? Duelling Champion three years in a row. Terrible shame what happened to him,” the comment ending with the large man shaking his head in sorrow.

Though before Harry could wonder about what terrible thing had happened to ‘Jamian Potter’, the Potions Master just as swiftly added, “But, let’s not let these things bring us down. Why this is only the start of your own magical education!”

His eyes moved to Severus, “As well as yours, Mr...” peering down at him in enquiry.

“Snape, sir... M-my mother was one of your students – Eileen Prince... before she married.”

“Prince? Prince... Eileen Prince...” Slughorn murmured several times, half lost in recollection. “Ah yes! Quite the Gobstones enthusiast – and not a bad hand in potions either, if I remember correctly,” giving Severus another small smile.

He then proceeded to tap his wand once on a small wooden tablet held in his left hand, holding the magical instrument down for _one_... _two_ papers to appear, one after the other, before he lifted the wand.

“Your schedules gentlemen,” handing them over. Leaning conspiratorially forward, he then mock-whispered, “I will also give you both a small piece of advice: do give yourself enough time before classes to find the right room. The castle can be quite the maze to those not used to it.”

Straightening himself, the Potions Master gave them a small wink and parting nod, “Mr Potter and Mr Snape,” to proceed back up to the front of the hall, where more students and teachers had evidently arrived.

 

Their schedules finally in hand, neither boy found themselves wanting to stay in the Hall much longer. They soon decided to head back to the Slytherin Dungeons. Twice they crossed other first years – Kevin Harper and David Vaisey, and then Cecily Betchley, Emily Bole, and Sally Farley – as well as older Slytherin, a few Harry recognised from last night. There were even a few Hufflepuff near the start of their descent. The two boys figured that their Common Room was also underground – something to look more into later. They found the three remaining Slytherin boys still the dorm, finishing getting ready. Harry thought it best to inform them of which subjects they had today as well as relay Professor Slughorn’s warning about having enough time to find the classrooms before they headed for breakfast. As for themselves, Severus and Harry only dwelled the time it took to collect the right books needed for the morning lessons, before leaving the dorm once more.

Their Head of House’s advice proved more than sound straight from the get-go, on their way to their first lesson: Transfiguration. – Just as the hat had been right in describing the castle as ‘alive’... Though perhaps less so about Hogwarts being ‘mothering’; Harry was more convinced by her being an eternal prankster, eager to play tricks of her occupants (with him silently wondering from which of the Four Founders had the trait come from?). Thankfully though, upon heading out, Higgs, the fifth year prefect, was still in the Common Room and relayed the best way to get there, all while warning them about the staircases, trick steps, and hidden archway they would pass on the way. Having already noted that Professor McGonagall was not someone to cross, Harry was pleased that they were able to arrive with time to spare to look over the first two chapters of **_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_** before class started.

 

Just as anticipated, the Head of Gryffindor was stern and knowledgeable as Harry had first predicted. While the lesson ended up only being theory based, with only the teacher doing the occasional demonstration, Professor McGonagall was no less impressive and commanding. Especially when, following her repeated stern warnings about her subject, she proceeded with a demonstration: turning her desk into a pig and back again after (something Harry remembered reading the witch Circe being famous for doing to a number on men). – Harry also silently found it rather amusing how unrestrained the Hufflepuff were in their awe of her skill as well as the subject in itself, in comparison to most of the Slytherin, who while the excitement was clear in their eyes, seemed to try and reign in their approbation as much as possible.

Herbology, the following class, was just as interesting. On the other hand, the teacher, Professor Sprout, came out with a much cheerier and welcoming demeanour than Professor McGonagall. (Harry thought she definitely held some of Hogwarts’ ‘mothering’ aspects; appearing to be as equally caring of the first years as she was of the various plants she gushed about that were laid out around the greenhouse.) He was also pleased to find he class was with Ravenclaw. While it wasn’t Remus, Harry very happily greeted Alice, closely followed by another witch, Marlene McKinnon, when they went straight for Severus and his bench when they entered the greenhouse. The best part of the class though was when he earned Slytherin three points (and the looks and nods of approval from his Housemates in doing so). Invigorated by no longer being in Dudley’s (very large) shadow or needing to pander to his cousin’s lack of knowledge in anything that didn’t involve punching or bullying of smaller children, Harry had correctly answered three of Professor Sprout’s questions on basic plant care (something he had learned through application in the years of taking care of Aunt Petunia’s many flower bushes).

After lunch, just like the two previous classes, their first lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts only delved with theory; – as they were apparently not ready for anything other than ‘ _foolish wand waving_ ’. This, at least for Harry, proved to possibly be true. When Professor Bones started by going over the rules to basic wand care as well as elementary wand safety, he became despondent when it became obvious he was the only Slytherin that hadn’t known any of these beforehand (even if quite a few were actually seemed to just be common sense); apart from possibly the warning Fabian Prewett had given him the day before about putting your wand in a pocket and his remark on the benefit of a wand holster. Glancing around the room though, he did suspect that at least for a few of his housemates had not known _all_ that Professor Bones related to them. (Secretly, he was also relieved when the professor had told William Pritchard his previous lessons in wand handling were wrong.) For the second half of the lesson, they then started on ‘basic magical theory’, defining the key differences between charms, hexes, jinxes and curses.

History, on the other hand, was a great disappointment. The preliminary excitement of the class being taught by a ghost soon wore off as it became clear (especially with Professor Binns’ monotone voice) that the class would be bloody boring. Having always liked History, Harry forced himself to listen for the first ten minutes. Ultimately though he determined that it would be better to privately go over the different chapters of both **_A History of Magic_** and **_Hogwarts a History_** (as well as possibly **_Gobbledegook: Understanding Goblins_** ) while giving slightly more focus and attention to the sections which talked about the few names the ghost teacher mentioned in class (usually a goblin’s).

It was in the final ten minutes of the mind-numbing lesson – Harry having moved on to finish his earlier reading about the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy – that Severus leaned over and whispered, “I’ve been thinking... I’m sure there are Wizarding Genealogy books in the library... As well as some with guidelines in calligraphy and quill penmanship,” his eyes briefly going to the history book and Harry’s muggle notepad open in front of him, “- we could go after class.”[2]

A strange feeling of excitement running through him at the suggestion, Harry agreed. The discussion quickly progressed from there, Harry (not really wanting all the attention to be on him while in the library) suggested that they could also start on the assigned reading and coursework they had already received. (There was also fact that while he would definitely look into the suggested books, Harry found himself wanting to first look at them - first about his possible family – _privately_.) Thankfully, talk had soon completely moved on from his mysterious family and terrible penmanship, having escalated to them deciding to first search for Remus and Lily, who they hadn’t yet seen today, as well as Alice and her new Ravenclaw friend. Both boys were relatively confident the others would be interested in joining their impromptu study session (not to mention the possibility of finding out what they had to look forward to for the classes they not yet had).

 

However when the class finally ended, before they had a chance to any of the things that they had been discussing, Harry was stopped by the impeccably dressed presence of Lucius Malfoy, waiting by the door.

“Afternoon, Potter. Professor Slughorn asked me to bring you to his office, once your class ended.”

Harry blinked, feeling his heart beating slightly faster as apprehension built within him. He quickly thought he had been found out; that the sorting Hat had revealed that he wasn’t in the right time. It didn’t help that Severus standing by his side, had his eyes narrowed on Harry, as if to say ‘ _what did you do_?’

With a hard swallow, he steeled himself to return the prefect’s greeting and invite him to lead the way. Quickly straightening his robes once more, he gave Severus a parting nod, before following after the older student.

 

They hadn’t moved far along the corridor, Harry silently trailing behind the sixth year, when Malfoy glanced down at him and asked, “So – how are you enjoying your first day at Hogwarts?”

Still silently reeling, wondering why he was being brought to their Head of House, Harry murmured without much enthusiasm, “It’s alright; had Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence and History. We only did theory so far. Transfiguration and Defence were interesting but seem rather tough; though that might be because of the teachers.”

Malfoy gave a nod. “Haven’t yet had Bones – though talk her Auror skill does precede her - , but McGonagall can be stringent. She’s strict and gives a fair bit of work but as long as you follow her guidelines, turn in your work on time, and show some talent and interest, you shouldn’t get on her back side. The least I can say is she’s one of the few Gryffindor to actually seem to have brains. Plus she doesn’t favour her House like Dumbledore does - _though_ , she does have a soft spot for the Quidditch players. Then again all Heads are undoubtedly at least a little bias, especially when it comes to Quidditch. Even Sprout was preening for a week when Hufflepuff actually _won_ the Cup last year.”

Harry only nodded, still rather confused about all the balls and rules of the flying sport – “Sprout seems decent; She gave me points when I was able to answer several of her questions,” unable to stop the small level of pride in his voice, or the following joy at Malfoy’s congratulatory response in earning Slytherin said points.

“What about History – what did you think of your first lesson?”

The grimace disappointment must have been clear on Harry’s face as the small smirk playing on Malfoy’s lips only grew, as he gave a small chuckle.

“According to Father, Binns was already obsessed on the various Goblin Wars through the centuries, even before becoming a ghost. Word to the wise, I would recommend getting the notes and mock exams from an older student, as Binns barely changes anything on his exams (probably only does because the Headmaster and other teachers force him to).”

Optimism built inside Harry, looking slyly up at the older wizard, “Could that person possibly be you?”

Malfoy’s smirk grew, “ _Perhaps_... It’s like Greengrass said yesterday: Slytherin take care of their own.”

Though, with the remark, Harry wanted to point out that the other older prefect had also reminded them that Slytherin was the House of the resourceful, _ambitious_ , and _cunning_ , as well as warned them that they wouldn’t be pandered and coddled like those in Hufflepuff.

Mind on last night’s speech it took Harry a few moments to realise that Malfoy had stopped, standing in front of an ornate looking door, all while now looking straight at him.

He raised an eyebrow as their eyes met. But when Harry remained silent, only taking the time to try and hide the worse of his messy hair under his hat and check his robes one last time, Malfoy gave him a small amused smirk and nod of approval, to then turn and knock at the door.

An answering ‘Enter’ came quickly after, the door opening by itself, both only confirming further that they were expected.

 

While the potions classrooms were apparently in the dungeons (the thicker walls helping contain any possible accidental explosions not to mention be less disruptive for other classes going on at the same time according to Severus), Professor Slughorn’s office was on the first floor: the afternoon light gave warm feeling on the space all while highlighting the elegantly furnished space (most in rich tones of greens and silver). Taking in the sheer opulence of the room as well as the impressive view of the grounds and Black Lake from the large windows, it took Harry a few beats to realise it wasn’t just his Head of House already inside.

Professor Slughorn appeared to halfway rising from his own chair.

Already standing was Headmaster Dumbledore.

And, slowly rising from their own armchairs were four other occupants: two wizards and two witches.

Both witches, impressive looking with the sort of features that hinted that they had been even more beautiful in their youth, dressed in intricate wizarding robes, were the first to catch your eye.

Yet just as quickly as he had seen at them, Harry's attention was pulled past them.

A jolt ran through him when his eyes landed on the tall, thin, black-haired men standing slightly behind them.

Slowly, hungrily, Harry stared, his eyes going between the two wizards. While one was clearly older than the other by several years, his hair peppered around the temples, both held themselves tall and straight, seeming not affected by age. They both also wore glasses; a round pair for the elder, and a squarer, pair for the younger, giving him a slightly more intimidating look.[3]

The second had a nose similar to his own; the other looked as though he might have Harry's knobbly knees—

-A powerful kind of ache ran through him.

This... this was his family.[4]

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/A_History_of_Magic> / HP&TDH
> 
> [2] Somewhat based on the books, for their schedules, I decided that Slytherin have Charms and Herbology with Ravenclaw, Transfiguration and Astronomy with Hufflepuff, and Potions and Flying with Gryffindor; History and Defence are done by House.
> 
> [3] For the story: Fleamont P was born in 1904 – 67 in 1971; Euphemia P was born in 1911 – 60 in 1971 (she had James at 49); Charlus P was born in 1913 – 58 in 1971; and (Canon) Dorea P was born in 1920 – 51 in 1971.
> 
> [4] Passage greatly inspired by the first Mirror of Erised scene in HP&TPS


	7. The Potters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _The second had a nose similar to his own; the other looked as though he might have Harry's knobbly knees—_
>> 
>> _-A powerful kind of ache ran through him._
>> 
>> _This... this was his family_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . 
> 
> Here it finally is; Sorry for the wait! This chapter got slightly out of hand and in all honesty not my favourite to write – but it is necessary for future plot points, so voila! Hopefully it still alright and makes some sense.
> 
> . 

 

 

 

 

“ _Ah_ Lucius, there you are my boy, and with Mr Potter, excellent – excellent.”

 

Harry’s inside gave a jolt.

So focused on the two tall, dark-haired wizards in front of him, he had completely forgotten about the other occupants of the room, or the sixth year prefect who had entered with him, now standing by Harry’s side.

“Yes, thank you Mr Malfoy,” the acknowledgment this time coming from the Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore’s blue eyes stared pointedly at the prefect through his half-moon glasses as he added, “we’ll take care of Mr Potter from here; wouldn’t want you to be late for your next class now, would we.”

Malfoy hesitated, his eyes going from the four strangers to the Headmaster, but recognised the dismissal. Not missing a beat, he smiled and gave a small bow of the head to the Headmaster, “of course, sir.”

His genial smile then turned to the rest of the group, “Professor... Ladies, gentlemen,” giving them all a similar head bob. He turned; his grey eyes met Harry’s, to also give him as a small nod. And he was out the door.

As the door shut, Slughorn gave a small chortled – “ _Lucius Malfoy_ , one of my prefects. While regrettably fairly average in Potions, he is a brilliant young man; a good head on his shoulders. He knows what he wants and how to achieve it. He will definitely go far.”

Not that the other occupants appeared to be giving him or the words much, if any, attention.

His own eyes no longer fixed on the two men’s, taking in their every feature, Harry’s gaze returned to the two witches, finally noticing their expressions: both pale, their wide-eyed gaze set on Harry, mouth slightly open as if they had given out silent gasps. One was even clutching a handkerchief tightly in her grip, pressing it close to the neck of her dark green robes. Even the two wizards, when looking back to them, appeared to be in momentary frozen in disbelief – wonderment; their eyes were also wide behind their spectacles, and their mouths slightly open.

A silence stretched heavy through the space. Harry felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, as he tried not to shift under all the heavy stares. All while he gaped right back, mind you. No wonder Remus and Alice said he ‘looked like a Potter’; going by these two wizards, he definitely agreed. James Potter came to mind. The resemblance between the two men and the other Potter (and himself) was unmistakeable. He silently wondered which were the Gryffindor Potter’s grandparents. Malfoy had mentioned the previous evening something about ‘ _Fleamont’s line_ ’ and ‘ _Charlus’ line_ ’. Not to mention, the two Black witches had talked of a relation to Dorea Potter, yet had given no indication that this extended to James Potter (and thus the ‘Fleamont Line’). Which ones were Dorea and Charlus Potter? Neither witch had the same blue eyes as the two prefects, instead grey for one and a soft green for the other. As for the men, both had amber coloured eyes - one a darker shade than the other one.

 

“Mr Potter, thank you for joining us.”

The silence had been broken by the Headmaster. So focused on his study and thoughts, Harry had no idea of how much time had passed; it could have been hours as it could have easily been a mere half-a-minute.

A twinkle in his eye, the old professor smiled at the rest of the occupants. “It would seem that introductions are in order,” his gaze going between Harry and the two couples. Taking a few steps forward, the oldest of the four Potters gave a nod of approval, murmuring a ‘ _please_ ’.

“My boy—” Harry couldn’t help but flinch at the denomination, even if faintly. With it thoughts of the Dursleys also unwittingly sprung forward. Taking a gulp in his dry throat, he forced himself to focus on the professor’s next words; “- allow me to present: Mr Fleamont and Madam Euphemia Potter – and Mr Charlus and Madam Dorea Potter. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Hadrian Potter.”

‘Fleamont’ Potter – the eldest – came even closer. While he continued to look at Harry with a critical eye, soaking in his every features (and Harry doing the same in return), Harry was reassured to also note warmth present in the gaze; A sense of unconditioned acceptance that only grew as he gave Harry a welcoming smile, sticking his hand out all while giving Harry a small bow of the head, “Well met Hadrian Potter.”

Eyes going from the larger hand to the wizard’s face and back again, Harry took a tentative step forward. Taking the hand with his own (somewhat shaky, sweaty) one, his tongue involuntarily flickering outward, trying to moisten his suddenly ever-dry mouth, he stuttered, “W-well met, Sir-Mr Potter, sir.” He was unable to stop himself from also giving an unsteady bow of sorts in return, feeling all the more befuddled and nervous.

Fleamont Potter’s lips quirked ever-so-slightly, “All this ‘Potter’ business with so many of us in the same room might just get a little confusing; Would you mind if I called you Hadrian? You may, of course, call me Fleamont – or _Amon_[1] if you prefer.”

Silently agreeing with him on the whole ‘Potter’ business being confusing, Harry readily nodded, “Y-yes, sir-Mr Fleamont, sir. Th-that’s fine... People call me Harry,” once more unable to stop the stammer in his voice.

Fleamont Potter’s smile only grew further, “People call my father, Henry Potter, ‘ _Harry_ ’ as well. He was very much interested in meeting you, when first hearing about you. Unfortunately, he has been somewhat under the weather as of late and was unable to come today; something that hopefully will be rectified soon.”

Harry’s heart pounded harder against his ribs. Had he been named after this Henry -‘ _Harry_ ’ - Potter, with perhaps his own given name being _Henry_? A tinge of regret grew within him, having chosen ‘Hadrian’ the day before. At a loss for words, Harry only gave a jerky nod.

That was when he caught movement behind the wizard. While they had been speaking, the older witch – Euphemia Potter – had stepped closer. Having evidently also noticed his wife’s approach, Fleamont Potter half-turned and encouraged her to come forward with a gesture of his hand. Once at his husband’s side, she smiled down at Harry presenting her hand, “it is a pleasure to meet you Hadrian. You are welcome to call me Euphemia or Effie.”

Introductions made for a second time, Harry looked past Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. The other couple, standing close together, hadn’t moved since standing up. Both sets of eyes were still fixed on him. Nor had they said anything yet. Perhaps it was years of reading the Dursleys (and others) many expressions but Harry was certain, despite their efforts to hide it, that their faces and smiles were strained. – At least they weren’t the edged-ire-appalled looks he usually received from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

The wizard gave him a hesitant tilt of the head, “Well met Mr Potter,” though he remained where he stood, as if _he_ was afraid of _Harry_. Or perhaps Charlus Potter was just staying close to his wife. His left arm clearly gave her some level of support as she continued to stare at Harry, her face pale, her body stiff.

Harry could relate; he was feeling rather overwhelmed himself.

 

“Why don’t we all sit round Professor Slughorn’s remarkable afternoon tea selection?” Professor Dumbledore suggested then. “Wouldn’t want all the House Elves’ efforts to go to waste,” his gaze going between the different Potters, obviously trying to relieve some of the tension.

Harry briefly wondered what ‘ _House Elves_ ’ were, to just as quickly recognised that this was probably not the best time to ask (though he did make a mental note to ask Remus or Severus later). As an alternative, he looked to the indicated space. At the suggestion, the other adults had shifted some, offering him a better view of the circle of armchairs and sofa in front of an ornate marble fireplace from which they had all risen when he had first come in. Continuing with the design of the room, all were thickly cushioned in an emerald green with threads of silver woven within. The seats’ wooden frames matched the dark shade of the low table on which was placed (as described) an impressive array of sandwiches, scones, small cakes and what Harry assumed was the wizard variant on a Victoria Sponge (with an extra layer and the jam being purple rather than red), as well as a teapot and cups, all which put Alice’s tea selection from yesterday to shame.

“Right you are, Albus; One should never make new acquaintances, or hold any conversation really, on an empty stomach.”

At least Professor Slughorn was agreeable to the suggestion. He quickly jumped in and half-herded them (mainly Harry) to the circle of chairs and fireplace. Still feeling all the curious eyes on him, Harry moved to one of the armchairs rather than the sofa, not yet ready to be sitting any closer to any of the Potters or the two Professors.

Waiting for the witches to sit down (- a rule Petunia had actually been able to sink through Dudley’s thick skull by the time he was nine, to his parents’ relief, just in time for one of Uncle Vernon’s important client dinners; not that Harry had actually been there for the actual evening) Harry wasn’t surprised to see Fleamont and Euphemia take the seats directly to his left. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the slightly younger Potter couple taking the sofa on the other side of the circle; a position that gave them a direct view of Harry, yet from the furthest distance possible. Or that the Headmaster took the seat to Harry’s right. He silently wondered if it would be better if the other professor: a buffer of sorts to the older wizard. While Professor Slughorn was rather intimidating, being his Head of House notwithstanding, the... _aura_ that surrounded Professor Dumbledore was _overwhelming_. It actually made Harry wonder if it was the fact that he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts - his magic linked to the school more so than the rest of the witches and wizards within the castle, or if it was just simply his formidable amount of magic. (Harry had, after all, heard a few whispers about Professor Dumbledore the previous day, not to mention the small information he had read about the old wizard his Frog Card and in **_Hogwarts: A History_**.)

Once all were seated, with a flick of Professor Dumbledore’s wand, the teapot floated into the air, to start pouring the steaming drink in each of the cups (somehow knowing how each liked - with a bit of milk and no sugar for Harry, used to the unsweetened taste from living with the Dursleys), while the tray carrying the plates of small sandwiches and cakes also levitated, drifting between the different guests.

Carefully taking his cup as well as one of the smaller sandwiches (the cakes would most likely be more crumbly, thus more risk of making a mess), Harry took a small sip, not wanting to appear rude. Still, his mind still reeling, his attention focused on the four different Potters – mainly the two wizards he looked so similar to - nerves getting to him, he soon placed cup and saucer it on the small table next to his chair, before he accidentally spilled everything on himself, or worse, on Professor Slughorn’s furniture and carpet.

“How are you liking your first day at Hogwarts Hadrian – Harry?”

Euphemia was the one to break the silence this time. Similar to the Headmaster, she was clearly trying to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled – or perhaps she had specifically sensed Harry’s apparent unease. Eyes meeting her light blue ones, it wouldn’t surprise him if the elderly witch, like to aunt Petunia, regularly hosted afternoon tea’s with other witches. Perhaps they even called them covens in the magical world? –

Harry shook his thoughts; another matter for later.

He directed his focus on the Potter witch (rather than the silent couple or the rather unnerving headmaster and his twinkling eyes), replying, “I-It’s fine.”

At her encouraging smile, he added, “We had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall and Herbology with Professor Sprout this morning, and then Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Bones—”

“- _Pierce Bones_?”

Harry reared back at the interrupting call, to blink widely at Charlus Potter.

A chuckle broke his confused state – “Not Pierce but rather _Gillian_ Bones,” Professor Slughorn chortled at the wizard. “One would think after more than _twenty_ years, you would have gotten over such things, Charlus. Not to mention, I believe Pierce is now more than happily married – to _Gillian_ – with children and even a few grandchildren,” giving a wink, he turned to Dumbledore and asked, “what is it now, three from Edgar - a girl and twin boys?”

The Headmaster gave a chuckle of his own, “Quite so, Horace; Edith is eight and I believe Joylon and Ector just turned six a few weeks ago.”

While somewhat at a loss at the interruption, Harry didn’t mind, especially given that it clearly eased some of the atmosphere. Even Dorea Potter seemed to loosen some, looking at her husband with fondness, mixed in with exasperation.

As Charlus Potter huffed something about ‘ _I’m not worrying_ ’ and ‘ _better be happy with McPhail_ ’, Euphemia returned the focus on Harry, asking if Defence had been his last class. Not all that surprisingly, given their class as well what Malfoy had mentioned earlier, Harry’s mention of Magical History and Professor Binns lead to a brief debate between the adults and the professors as to why the ghost professor was still teaching. To Harry understanding that it ultimately had something to do with the ghost’s uncle or possibly great-uncle having being Hespa- _something_ Gore[2] (who ever that was) and a whole load of politics.

Of course, as the discussion died down (ending with Charlus wondering out loud if he should have a look at the Board of Governors), all focused returned to Harry.

“Now, Hadrian – Harry...” Fleamont Potter addressed him, his gaze squarely on him. There was a small pause before - with another encouraging smile - he asked his tone tentative, “... I assume you have some idea as to why you have been called here today?”

Harry gave a nod, “T-the Black witches – that is Miss Andromeda and Miss Narcissa Black... they came to speak with me after the Welcome feast last night, in the Slytherin Common Room. They mentioned that Madam Dorea Potter...” his eyes automatically went to the silent woman, giving her a hesitant look, “...that Madam Potter was their great-aunt. They asked if we were possibly related – if I wouldn’t mind if they wrote to her...”

His voice trailed off at the end, unsure how much more he should say. – The couple _had_ evidently received the letter from Andromeda Black; why else would they be here?

Thankfully, Charlus Potter gave a stiff nod of confirmation.

His smile becoming slightly more strained, Fleamont mirrored the nod, “Yes – while waiting your arrival, Charlus mentioned receiving an owl early this morning. Both Charlus and Dorea were... _surprised_ when reading its contents. From what I gather, Miss Black main query was your relation to the rest of the family...” There was another small pause, the wizard looking all the more cautiously at Harry, “... she also expressed both her and her sister’s concerns with regards to your current guardianship? —”

“-Something they really should have shared with me,” Professor Slughorn shaking his head reprovingly, his frown looking half-way between concerned and chastising. “I _am_ theirs and Hadrian’s Head of House.”

“Now Professor,” intervened Charlus Potter, finally speaking. “You can’t begrudge our grand-niece from wanting to keep a familial matter _private_ ; at least until they received further information.”

Fleamont Potter gave a nod of agreement. “We also received a letter – though late last night – from our son James; I wouldn’t be surprised if Professor McGonagall knew nothing of it or his wayward trip to the owlery, no matter how sharp-eyed Arsenius[3] says she is.”

Harry’s throat gave a tiny hitch. He had actually momentarily forgotten all about James Potter.

He was also surprised to learn that Fleamont Potter was the Gryffindor’s _father_ , not grandfather. (He supposed if magic was supposed to make people live longer, according to Bathilda Bagshot‘s **_History of Magic_** , then witches and wizards could to have children later in life.)

Then there was the third source to his bewilderment: Euphemia. Puzzlingly, following the statement, the witch gave her husband a glare, murmuring something about ‘ _can’t believe_ ’, ‘ _your father_ ’, ‘ _heirloom_ ’, ‘ _toy_ ’ and ‘ _cloak_ ’ under her breath. All the while, Fleamont looked unconcerned (though eyes going anywhere but his wife) as he eased over the whispers, “His letter mentioned another Potter, asking why we had never told him that he had a cousin. Due to the late hour, I must confess I thought it was a prank. That is, until receiving a floo-call from Charlus this morning.”

There was a soft pause then. Amber eyes stared straight into Harry’s green ones; as if all the more trying to figure a complex puzzle.

“To be perfectly honest Harry, _we_ didn’t know about any possible nephews or nieces until James’ letter and speaking with Charlus. As you might have realised, while we are all very happy to meet you, we’re also rather... _astonished_ by your presence before us.”

There was another pause then; a question hanging in the air.

They probably expected him to respond; wanting him to confirm or not the statement.

A tentative nod from Harry encouraged the aged Potter wizard to continue, “Miss Blacks’ letter mentioned that you live with your aunt on your mother’s side... – a squib? With your muggle uncle and cousin; is that correct?”

While repetitive, Harry could only give another silent nod, unsure what he could – _should_ actually say.

“Would you mind telling us about your parents... and, if you know, why you live with your aunt and uncle?”

A part of Harry had expected the request. And yet, it didn’t stop his throat from tightening further at the words. More than anything he wanted to know more about his parents... and now about these Potters in front of him – his family, undoubtedly. About _any_ _family_ who wasn’t Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia or Dudley (not even mentioning Aunt Marge).

However, he was equally unsure what to tell them. He didn’t want to lie to them. He never particularly liked lying, even when it had been necessary. (Besides, what if wizards had some way of knowing if you were lying?)

Then again, it wasn’t like he knew much to begin with.

So, finding little else to say, he went with blunt honesty ( _well_ , except for what the Hat had told him), “I don’t know much I can help you. I don’t know much about my parents; just that they were killed by another wizard when I was little. T-That’s why I was placed with my aunt and uncle...”

Several pairs of eyes widened at this. Dorea Potter’s gip even tightened further on her husband arm. Only the Headmaster’s face remained a semblance of calm, though the twinkle in his eyes dimmed. They had mostly likely deduced his parents were dead, for him to be living with his aunt and uncle, yet had also probably believed their deaths had been a misfortune of circumstance – perhaps even something similar to the ‘car-accident’ that Aunt Petunia had supplied him with for nearly ten years.

And then, just as quickly, there was an onslaught of exclamations and questions; - If he knew why none of the Potters had been contacted? – Why Aunt Petunia (and Uncle Vernon) hadn’t tried to contact any of them? – If Harry knew who the wizard had killed his parents was? – When about’s had they been killed? – Before Euphemia pushed forward, her voice softer, more careful than before, and asked Harry his parents’ names.

If anything Harry’s stomach sunk lower at this last matter. A large part of him wanted to ignore Euphemia and focus on another. Yet, out of all the questions they had asked, it was truthfully the only one he could at least partially answer; He was able to tell them his mother’s name, _Lily_ (Aunt Petunia having actually been mentioned it three times in the last ten years). On the other hand, there was little else he could do other than disclose that he didn’t know his father’s. At the looks of outrage on the various faces, Harry remained silent on his belief that Aunt Petunia had most likely known it, though had also most likely forgotten it – pushed it from her mind.

It was Professor Slughorn in the end, who asked; horror and outrage clearly present, the voice just above a whisper, Harry still heard it, “How can that be?”

And with it Harry felt all the more like a deer caught in headlights.

Harry’s halt, truthfully, was less to do with their reactions, and more to do with his own wavering. Even now, with the older wizard’s prompting, he hesitated. What should he say next? – _How much_ should he say reveal about his life with the Dursleys? Yes, a part of him, since yesterday, understood better Aunt Pertunia’s reactions to him having magic. He still didn’t excuse all she had done (and not done) to him through the years, though. He was definitely far less sympathetic to Uncle Vernon’s role and actions through the last ten years. (And Harry didn’t even want to think about Aunt Marge.) Even any possible reason why they had never contacted any of the Potters, apart from their clear aversion to anything possibly ‘freakish’ i.e magical, Harry had no idea.

Then there was the fact that ultimately it wasn’t like anyone could do anything about it _now_ – especially not twenty years in the past. Just like his parents’ death and the reason behind it (these Potters undoubtedly would be coming to wrong conclusions, when the truth wasn’t even known by Harry), his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys wasn’t something that these Potters would be able to change. (– How old were even Vernon and Petunia currently, in 1971?)

He could say something along the lines of his aunt had worried that he didn’t have any magic and would have just been building him up to disappointment like she had been, and thus had kept him from the magical world for his own good. – But he wouldn’t.

For all the times his hair had re-grown, or found himself on the roof of the school kitchens, or turned his teacher’s hair blue, or talking to snakes and making glass disappear, or having strange dreams about flying motorcycles (though that last one he still didn’t know if it was actually possible, even in the magical world) it was clear that Petunia and even Vernon had _known_. They had had ample opportunities to tell him why these things kept happening. No, instead he had been accused of being a ‘freak’, doing ‘freakish things’, locking him in his cupboard, making him do an endless list of shores. Harry had read enough of **_So You’re Magic!_** (and even a small mention in **_A History of Magic_** ) to know that magical children had no control over their accidental magic (hence _accidental_ ).

More to the point, from their scrutiny of him since he had entered (not to mention whatever the two Black witches had written in their letter), the Potters had mostly likely noticed his short stature, the taped glasses, Dudley’s old shirt poking out at the collar of his simple robes, even possibly the scar hopefully still mostly hidden under his messy bangs and pointed hat. He saw the image of James Potter from last night: taller, in nicer robes, round gold-rimmed glasses, with not a scratch on him as far as Harry had been able to note. He had been so very different to Harry, even while looking so similar.

He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, in a nervous gesture. Eyes having lowered, now fixed on table in front of him, still covered with plates of cakes and sandwiches, he gave a small defeated sigh.

“We live in a muggle area, near London; my aunt, uncle, cousin and I. Both Dudley and I went to a muggle school...”

He paused, gnawing at his lip then. From the responses on the train (or even the Slytherin when Harry had mentioned being raised by a squib), he knew this next bit would get an even bigger reaction than what he was already currently inciting (not that he saw it, refusing to look up). Silently hoping that whatever amount of trust he put in these members of his family wouldn’t come back to haunt him, he pushed forward, “They don’t like talking about magic – anything to do with it, including my parents. I-I only found out about magic – about being a wizard – when I received my Hogwarts letter. Before then I had no idea about wands, witches, brooms, spell books, goblins. As far as I know, the first witches or wizards I ever met were when I went to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley to get the items on my Hogwarts letter’s list...”

The silence stretched on after the last few words had been mumbled out.

It stretched on till Harry found it in him to look up... to find the four Potter faces pale, horrified, not to dissimilar to Remus and Alice yesterday.

Even Professor Slughorn looked incensed. Professor Dumbledore’s expression veered more towards concerned – concerned... and something else, lingering behind the half-moon spectacles. (The usual twinkle in the man’s eye was also completely absent now.)

 

It took some time for everyone to settle down after Harry’s reveal; mostly by the Headmaster’s calming manner and choice words.

Still, neither Professor Dumbledore nor Euphemia (though her attempts were undoubtedly half-hearted) were able to stop Fleamont Potter, with Charlus a mere step behind him, essentially demanding the full names of Harry’s squib-muggle relations and their address. (Their demeanour and voices far less calm than previously, Harry reminded himself several times over during their onslaught that the older wizards were not angry with him but his Aunt and Uncle).

Unfortunately, it was then that everything became a whole new level of overwhelmingly confusing and complicated.

While a part of him recognised that even if he gave the relevant information, it would not technically be valid ( _yes_ , there was most likely a Vernon Dursley somewhere out there presently, but as far as he knew Petunia wasn’t yet married to him, nor did they currently live at number 4), when Harry spoke – or really _tried_ to speak;

“Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon ( _d)_ —”

Harry pulled back, his hand going to his throat.

Pushing back the small amount of worry possibly building within him, he tried again “Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon _(d)_ —”

And yet for the second time, the ‘d’ of Dursley remained silent, lodged in his throat, just like the rest of the word. For some reason he was unable to say it aloud.

Fleamont frowned down at him in concern, “Hadrian?”

For Harry to shake his head back at the wizard in confusion, even some fear leaking out with his next words, “I... I-I can’t... can’t say their name aloud; Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon _(d)_ —”

Frustration and panic getting to him, he tried another tactic, “They live at _(f)_ —... at number _(f)_ — , at ( _p_ )—”

He knew it was _Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey_. And yet, the words remained obstinately unuttered, stuck within him. There was something _blocking_ him from saying the information aloud.

He didn’t even realise he was trembling until he felt a small amount of added pressure on his shoulder. Flinching, he turned to find the Headmaster’s wrinkled hand there, as the old wizard looked calmly down at him.

“Hadrian, my boy, while you clearly possess the desired knowledge, for some reason, it is unfortunately quite clear that something is blocking you from saying it out loud.”

“Blocking it?”

While Harry had been thinking those words, they came from a voice he didn’t recognise behind him. Turning it wasn’t all that surprising to find a similar unease to his own on the faces of the rest of the party. Harry was somewhat taken aback though to realise it had been Dorea Potter who had spoken. Her eyes fixed on Professor Dumbledore, she actually looked a lot less confused than the rest, “ _P_ _raesidium_[4] _Charms_?”

While Harry had no idea what she meant, the Headmaster nodded in agreement, “Most likely. My guess would be several; including an _Iūs Iūrandus_[5] incantation and most likely a variant of the _Fidelius Charm_[6].”

Before Harry could possibly ask what all these ‘ _pracidum charms_ ’ were, the professor addressed the whole group, “– However if you would be willing I would like to attempt to identify some of the spells; at the very least, it could hopefully give us some idea as to the caster?”

The Potters readily agreed at this suggestion. Thus, as if an echo of the previous evening, Harry watched the old wizard raised his wand, for it to once more point straight at him.

The wand did nothing further.

“-Hadrian, my boy?”

Eyes fixed on the end of the pale piece of wood, near cross-eyed, Harry’s gaze ever-so-briefly flickered to meet the Headmaster’s.

He blinked, realising the professor was waiting for his consent as well.

“I promise it will not hurt, other than possibly a series of strange sensations run through you.”

Eying the wand warily once more, taking a small gulp, Harry nodded.

The next few moments the room was silent as Harry and the rest watched several spells were cast upon his person. As promised, while some made his whole body glow a certain colour, others only leaving an odd feeling – a tingle of sorts - run through him, even possibly making him feel slightly woozy, none ever hurt him.

Still, Harry’s heart only raced faster with each casting. Not to mention, it did nothing for Harry’s nerves that with each sweep of the wand, the professor’s face seemed to close further and further. Clearly, whatever the professor had been looking for he did not find from the increasing perplexed look on his face.

And then, the careful hush was suddenly broken when a deep red shadow surrounded Harry to turn near black upon reaching his forehead. Someone behind the professor’s tall form gave out a near silent gasp whispering – “ _surely not_...”

But Professor Dumbledore paid them or the exclamation little attention.

“Mr Potter if I may?” The pale wand pointed to his hat – or really, Harry quickly realised, to his scar hidden underneath it.

Harry quickly pulled the hat off, for his hair to spring in every direction. He had to stop himself from reaching up and try to flatten it to try and cover the scar once more, especially with the Headmaster’s eyes and wand so fixed upon it.

In any case, the next thing Harry knew, he suddenly felt light-hearted, as if the start of a headache was building inside him. And then, a sharp stab ran through Harry’s skull where his scar lay, for a bright green light shone in front his eyes, blinding him, for both pain and light to disappear just as suddenly as they had come.

Ears buzzing, it took him a moment to realise he had closed his eyes and that he was clutching his scar. That and someone was helping him remain seated, rather than falling forward.

As he let out a soft groan, rubbing his scar, Harry felt something cool and glazed being placed in his other hand with a soft whisper to drink, for him to realise he had been given his cup still half-full of warm tea.

When Harry was finally able to open his eyes again (with another groan), it was to find the professor’s bright blue eyes were staring straight into his green ones, definitely not twinkling anymore, but rather concern etched on his weathered face. It took a few more sips of tea and even a few bites of a sandwich for the Headmaster to be satisfied enough that Harry was able to stay upright unassisted.

Only then did he stand up, turning to the rest of the group. Battling through the lingering headache, Harry tried to follow as much as possible as the professor addressed the other adults – or at least as he finally replied to the earlier exclamation;

“Unfortunately true, my dear Dorea. There definitely some sort of Blood Ritual done – not to mention Dark Magic. The specifics I can’t say but given Hadrian’s reaction to my last casting, I will not go any further.”

Rubbing his scar, feeling somewhat better after a few gulps of the tea, Harry couldn’t help but groan out, “ _Blood Ritual_?”

Professor Dumbledore turned back to face him. “Blood Magic is one of the more ancient forms of Magic there is, Hadrian. As such it is one that has been constantly revised and developed through the centuries; sometimes to detrimental effect. So drastic have been certain consequences of the practice, it that almost all forms of Blood Magic have been deemed by the ICW too dangerous, except in certain specifically control situations.”

Someone behind the professor asked something that Harry didn’t quite hear. Given their somewhat hushed tones, not to mention his own headache and suddenly feeling rather drained; he missed certain bits of the conversation.

He did catch Fleamont’s voice, sounding more sombre, responding to whatever Professor Slughorn had just said, suggesting, “We could try a Magik Lineage Test.”

At Euphemia’s followed hushed – “ _is that truly necessary_?” - Harry forced himself to look up, to find Fleamont replying, “Effie, if those behind this appear have used Blood Magic, not to mention Dark Magic – we can’t rule out a possible Blood Adoption.”

“A Magik test would counter – or really, _overlook_ any possible Blood Magic,” Charlus Potter readily supported the statement. “Not to mention be more accurate, as it focuses specifically on the person’s magik.”

Fleamont rubbed his hand over his face to run it through his (already messy) hair (sending a strange exciting thrill for Harry witnessing the effect of his own untameable hair on someone else) before he took out his pocket watch. “It’s far too late to contact anyone at this hour, nor do I doubt even Hippocrates[7] would appreciate us just barging in without some sort of appointment.”

“ _Quite so_ ”, Euphemia gave a sharp nod, looking at her husband rather reprovingly; as was Dorea Potter. “A test at the end of the week would better, Amon. Such a procedure on a magical core – that of a child at that... We wouldn’t want it to tire Hadrian more than necessary. Nor I imagine would Hadrian want to miss any of his first week of school.”

“Of course – of course, “Professor Slughorn readily jumped in. “Why it shouldn’t be too much trouble to make a small exception for Hadrian to spend the weekend with family.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] **Amon** : From Αμμων ( _Ammon_ ), the Greek form of Egyptian _Ymn_ (reconstructed as _Yamanu_ ) which meant "the hidden one". In early Egyptian mythology he was a god of the air, creativity and fertility. Later, during the Middle Kingdom, his attributes were combined with those of Ra and was worshipped as the supreme solar deity Amon-Ra.
> 
> [2] <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Hesphaestus_Gore> / <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/18th_century_goblin_rebellion>
> 
> [3] <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Arsenius_Jigger> \- for this fic, Arsenius Jigger is slightly older than Fleamont; he was the Defence professor until summer 1969 (thus taught at the same time as McGonagall), after TR placed the curse on the position in Dec 1968 – is now retired.
> 
> [4] <https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/praesidium#Latin>
> 
> [5] <https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/ius_iurandum#Latin>
> 
> [6] <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Fidelius_Charm>
> 
> [7] <http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Hippocrates_Smethwyck>
> 
> . 
> 
> With regards to the ‘Caster’ of the protections blocking Harry from saying anything: it is actually a mix of Lily’s sacrifice and Petunia strengthening it by taking Harry in however reluctantly (not to mention any possible spell Dumbledore’s added to fortify it further), Dumbledore’s own spells/incantations on Harry and on Privet Drive, (although possibly minimal) Voldermort’s own possible protections through his Horcrux that has ultimately been protecting its host for the past ten years, and last but not least (although also possibly minimal) Hogwarts’ own influence/magic protecting Harry while he is within her walls.
> 
> For Dumbledore and the Elder Wand: – yes he has both in 1971, which is one of the reasons that has him so confused as the (‘all powerful’) wand cant indentify the spells/go past them. What he obviousl doesn’t know/realised is that future-Dumbledore and the magic of the future-Elder wand in 1981 (when the protections on Harry) is more powerful and developed than 1971-Dumbledore and 1971-Elder Wand yes, but it is not going to be the same nor would it be as developed and powerful than in 1981– especially after 10 years of war/research against Voldi-pants.
> 
> I see the protections on Harry and Privet Drive as multi-facetted: 1 - stopping anyone of ill intent (which was why Dobby was able to enter, as his aim is technically to keep Harry safe); 2 – the blood sacrifice especially focuses on anyone linked with the magical signature that resulted in the blood sacrifice, ie: V’s magical signature, and thus anyone with his Mark can’t come near Privet Drive (even if intent is not a violent one); 3 – Dumbles own spells/wards stops anyone magical not approved by him/his own wards – a secret keeper of sorts (though he thinks only to the extent of wizards and part wizards, and forgets, like Voldi, about House Elf magic).
> 
> .


	8. All This Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry continues through his first week at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those who have already given your appreciations on this story.
> 
> Some passages were taken directly from HP&TPS / HP&TGOF

 

 

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had just gone through a session of Harry Hunting. He had awoken from a vivid dream, his hands pressed over his face. The scar on his forehead burned beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

He sat up. One hand stayed on his scar. The other pushed the bed-curtains out of the way and reached out for his glasses, on the bedside table. The four-poster bed came into focus. His eyes followed the cloudy bottle-green line of light filtering through the gap he had created through the curtains. Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. Taking care to be as silent as possible, he pushed through the curtains, scrambled out of bed, to cross the dorm room to the bathroom attached. Once inside (several candles magically— _magically!_ flickering on, sensing his presence), he peered into the long horizontal mirror taking up most of the wall above the sinks. A small skinny boy in a worn, oversized shirt (passing for as a nightgown) looked back at him; his face pale, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Harry tried to recall the dream. It had seemed so real... There had been three people... He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember...

The dim picture of a darkened room came to him... There had been a snake on a hearth rug... two tall men... and a cold, voice...

He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to remember what the two men had looked like... or the third for that matter. He was certain there had been a _third_ ; there had been _three_ voices... It had been when the third voice had spoken – cold and hard – that a spasm of anger had run through him, waking him... or had it been the pain in his scar?

Who had these three men been? It was all becoming confused. Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his surroundings, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room. But it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them...—

_-“Everything’s going to fall out if you continue like that.”_

Harry gave a jolt. To then berate himself for being so easily caught unaware; even if just waking up, his mind still reeling, after a decade of living with Dudley, he knew better than not be aware of his surroundings.

Looking around for the source though, had Harry facing his own reflection.

“Why, you’re as pale, sodden and unsteady as a baby bowtruckle after his first morning rain!”

His own reflection, who was talking to him.

He couldn’t help but take a step back, a shiver running through him, as he ignored the mirror-him.

_Magic_.

Yes, magic was _wonderful_ and _amazing_. Four days had been more than enough time to confirm as much.

And yet, every now and then it did leave him ill at ease. It would be an understatement to say that Harry was still not being used to there being _so much_ of it, especially all in one place.

Talking-moving mirrors were rather disconcerting to be fair. Harry always made sure to either change in his bed or in the shower stall. Albeit much nicer, words less harsh, magical-mirrors were _too_ reminiscent of the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia’s pursed lips, Uncle Vernon’s grunts and grumbles, both judging him every time their gaze landed on him, as if Harry had dared remind them of his (unnatural) presence in their (perfectly ordinary, _thank you very much_ ) home. What usually followed were cutting remarks, mainly on his messy-hair (and the scar hidden underneath), broken glasses (broken by their precious ‘Duders’), his small frame and the several sizes too big shirt and trousers that needed a belt to stay on (no use in pointing out that they were the ones who had given him Dudley’s old clothes).

But here he was as far from Number Four, Privet Drive as one could get.

It was still hard for Harry to grasp the large revelation; He was a _wizard_ here. Magic existed here. (Harry had no doubt that something as strange and mysterious as _magic_ was very much _unwelcome_ in Little Whining.)

Here, on the other side of the door, he had his very own large wooden trunk filled with a cauldron, black robes, an empty bird cage and assorted spellbooks. On the desk by his bed was another – **_A History of Magic_** , which Harry had been reading before sleep the night before. Along with it were a small pyramid of rolls of parchment as well as an inkwell and a couple of sharpened quills. – _Quills_. _Parchments – spellbooks – cauldron – robes_... Within the pages of the History book itself, the pictures _moved_.

Diagon Alley had only given Harry a glimpse of what it meant to live in a world full of magic (‘ _small_ ’ being the operative word). He supposed he had to take into account that the magical district hadn’t been bustling with activity when he had visited. The Leaky Cauldron had been near empty, what with being the early hours of a weekday.

On the other hand, from sunup till sundown, magic _surrounded_ Hogwarts. The castle _breathed_ magic. Talking portraits, moving staircases, ghosts, vanishing doors, enchanted windows, and owls delivering mail – _yelling_ _mail_...; The school was an explosion of _magic_. It wasn’t difficult to believe it had been created for the sole purpose of cramming as much magic within its walls as was – _well_ , _magically_ possible.

Even with Professor Slughorn’s advise (heading to class early to map out the best possible route), it was hard to find one’s way through the ever-changing castle. The portraits didn’t help. They preferred to move around, visit each other. The same went for the statues and the suits of armour. Harry was certain they understood when spoken to, and yet they ignored any question or request put to them. Just as he was certain they moved around and changed location (most likely waiting for whenever no one was looking) to confuse, just when Harry had started to figure out a particular route. And if that wasn’t enough, the snake-memorabilia (something definitely not in shortage in the Slytherin Dungeons) hissed threateningly, grumbling when something happened to displease them; the distinctive noise easily giving Harry a headache. Last night, it had been a group of second years playing exploding snaps a little too closely to the large painting of a three-headed snake for its liking. Even the large marble snake-ornamental statues framing the nearby fireplace had coiled on themselves further, all while hissing their irritation at the disruption. (Not that Harry had particularly liked the constant stream of card explosions either. In truth, he wasn’t actually sure if it was the snakes’ hiss or the game - given its volatile quality - that was the true source of his headache.)

These went with the few comments- _warnings_ the older years had shared about certain doors and arches, rooms, and even whole corridors of Hogwarts that were only accessible at certain times of the day or week. (Or even only appearing at a specific time of the year; Urquhart’s older sister had told him of a room on the fifth floor that only appeared by the rays of a full moon. Although, like a few others, Harry was sceptical whether these anecdotes were true or not; If it was just the older students pulling their leg.)

As for the ghosts, only Lord Bladud[[1]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftn1) (the Bloody Baron’s real name) indicated the right direction (though apparently very rarely, when he was feeling ‘sociable’). He had also helped the last night when Harry and the other Slytherin boys had basically been cornered by Peeves. (Though the Slytherin ghost had given them all a right scare – poltergeist and first years alike - when he had glided through the castle wall.) Still, when the Baron wasn’t around, the poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a tricky staircase. That wasn’t even mentioning Apollyon Pringle, the school caretaker. He was even less help than the ghosts or paintings, convinced any student in the hallways was up to no good, even when they had only been trying to find the way to Charms. (Professor Flitwick had thankfully had been much more understanding, when they had arrived a couple minutes late to his class.)

Still, it was only Wednesday. With any luck by the end of the week he would be able to find his way to his two classes without difficulty or help. Potions hopefully would be easy to find, being also located in the dungeons.

Worse comes to worse, there at least was the occasional assistance from older years. Though, the way Aubrey went on about it, this could to be broken down to only include other Slytherin (with the odd Hufflepuff), and even then possibly really only the prefects. (Privately, based on Greengrass’s welcoming speech, Harry thought they couldn’t be certain how long they could depend on the prefects for help.)

 

Harry shook his head, letting his hand fall fully to his side. The last dregs of his latest dream had now fully and truly sunk to the far reaches of his mind. Even his scar was much cooler to the touch.

A sigh – one half-way between tiredness and frustration – escaped him.

With a last trail of his finger over his scar (ignoring the mirror’s reflection latest observation), Harry went over to the sinks. He wouldn’t get back to sleep now. Nor was there much point in any case; while his dorm-mates were all still sleeping, enjoying the small lie-in allowed from their timetable after a late-night class the evening before, the rest of castle would already be starting to bustle with activity.

Looking down he asked the snake shaped tap in front of him for warm water (something he had found late Monday evening, waking up in the middle of the night after the Potter meeting). The tap hissed in agreement, for water to flow a moment later. Harry put his hands underneath and smiled; —perfectly warm, without being too hot. He cupped some in his hands to wash the last traces of the strange dream from his face. Satisfied he thanked the snake-tap, and reached for his toiletry bag and towel.

 

*

 

Under the watchful gaze of about a thousand raptors (the majority owls, with the odd smaller-sized kite, falcon and hawk) Harry sat. Hedwig, not yet asleep, was perched at his side. By his feet was his bag, an unrolled letter balancing on top, while open on his lap in front of him was **_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_** by one Phyllida Spore.

As Harry had correctly assumed, upon leaving the dormitory, dressed and bag packed for their only morning class, while his housemates continued to sleep, the rest of Hogwarts was wide-awake. After a quick stop by the Great Hall, packing a couple of slices of buttered toast, an apple, and a few pieces of bacon for Hedwig into a large napkin, he had headed for the owlery (all the more grateful to Andromeda Black for having shown him the way yesterday afternoon, for his various replies). Unlike the Great Hall, busy even during the breakfast hours, there was something calming about this place. Only hoots and the sound of feathers fluttering surrounded him here. Even the wide fowl eyes were nothing compared to the quick glances or full-on stares from other students.

It was unfortunate, though altogether unsurprising, that Harry’s ‘introduction’ at Hogwarts hadn’t gone without notice.

The only first year to have gained more attention was Sirius Black. Even with his observations being from afar (from across the Great Hall, or opposite ends of a long corridor when trying to find the way to the library) or from what he heard others, the Black wizard _preened_ from the attention his unusual House sorting had brought him. (That and the interest the ‘Black’ name gave him; how some went on about the ‘old pureblood families’, it all seemed very similar to the muggle-gentry, from what Harry could make out.)

Harry, on the other hand, did _not_ relish the amount of notice he had gained.

Attention had never meant anything good in the first eleven years of his life.

Worse, instead of dimming, interest had _increased_ since the Welcome Feast. While Harry was grateful in the few times they helped him through his first days of magical school, each time either of the Black sisters went to talk to him, he felt eyes on him.

Still, both Andromeda and Narcissa Black sisters did want to keep their possible family matter private. (All while also wanting to know more about Harry, whether for their own benefit or from familial requests they had received, of course.) On the other hand, Malfoy didn’t have the same qualms. By the looks Harry received from some of the older students, the sixth-year prefect had mentioned the Monday Potter meeting to his friends. (The most unnerving of these was the dark-haired wizard Malfoy had been talking to after the Welcome Feast: ‘Rabastan Lestrange’, according to Aubrey, with ‘Lestrange’ of course also being one of those important pureblood families.) Harry didn’t rule out either of the professors present at the meeting either. He already had experience with teachers’ tendency to gossip about students from his primary school. And if none of these had gotten people’s unwanted interest, there had been the three large regal looking owls landing in front of Harry’s breakfast yesterday morning.

So instead of the Great Hall or even the comparatively _too_ -silent library (where there was also the librarian’s piercing stare each time you turned a page) he had retreated here. His fingers ran softly running Hedwig’s feathers as he read in preparation for class.

 

Or at least tried to; With frustration, Harry realised that he had just re-read the last section for the third time without actually retaining anything.

Instead of the page, his thoughts continued to revert back to the dream— _dreams_. Even this quiet-peaceful place wasn’t enough to drive out the haunting of nightmares he didn’t even remember.

True, at the Dursleys there had been the occasional strange (not at all _normal_ or _acceptable_ ) dream. Yet those had been far less frequent. And he remembered those. The last one had been the night before Dudley’s birthday. It had been the one with a flying motorcycle. While still in the dark on if motorcycles could actually fly, even in the wizarding world, he was sure his dreams at the Dursleys had been due to him having magic. They had been a manifestation of sorts of what part of him already knew subconsciously, before Aunt Petunia had finally told him the truth: he had magic, was magic. Harry was sure of it.

But _these_ dreams were different.

These dreams— _well_... they were _strange_ (not the Dursley definition of ‘strange’). Unlike the ‘Dursley dreams’, he never remembered anything (or only for the few moments as he woke up). It was the aftermath really that worried Harry more. He would always wake up sweating, panting, a rush running through him. And _anger_. There was always this feeling of deep-seated frustration and _anger_ inside him. Not to mention, they were much more frequent. Harry had had one every night since arriving at Hogwarts.

In all honesty, not remembering any of it worried him as well. – It felt like a part of his brain was blocking itself from the rest of his mind.

He did wonder if it was his mind getting used to this new world. As previously acknowledged, while he had learned the truth about magic a little over a month ago, it was only _now_ , at Hogwarts, that he was fully immersed in this whole new world.

There was also the whole travelling back in the past. – Perhaps Harry’s mind and body somehow sensed the displacement and were slowly adjusting, in addition to that of this new environment?

Then again, maybe it was a reaction to Professor Dumbledore’s sequence of spell casting on Monday? His head (mainly his scar) had felt ready to burst for a long time afterward. Harry had felt so woozy and out of sorts that when the meeting had finally ended soon after (possibly the adults noticing his growing headache - Professor Slughorn even giving him some sort of relief potion), Harry had retreated directly back to the Slytherin first year dorms, to quickly fall into a deep slumber (...only to wake up a few hours later, his scar hurting).

... Or perhaps he was reading too much into it all?

This latest one could just be a reaction to their late-night class. (Just like the previous one had been a reaction of meeting the Potters and the Headmaster’s spells, and the evening before had been effects to finally arriving at Hogwarts and being surrounded by magic so fully - not to mention the whole travelling through time.)

Harry barely suppressed a shiver; One that had nothing to do with any dream. Their first Astronomy class (with Hufflepuff) had been interesting, _true_. Professor Coelus[[2]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftn2) (like all the other teachers they’d had so far) had first gone through what they would be learning through the year. Starting by identify the different celestial bodies observed in the Scottish-night sky and the background behind each one. Harry also appreciated the second half. The astronomy teacher had given an overview as to _why_ learning the different astral objects and their various positions throughout the year was useful to a witch or wizard. The reasons were definitely varied; Whether it be for general (usually nighttime) navigation (broom navigation was understandably key in the wizarding world), to knowing when best to pick a specific plant or to brew a certain potion, to knowing when certain magical creatures were to act a particular way, to conclude by mentioning the fair number of key celebrations and rituals throughout the year, followed by different wixen communities, which had a certain astrological significance to them.

Still, it would have far better without the cold, wind, and drizzle (- typical Scottish ‘ _Smirr_ ’[[3]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftn3) according to Urquhart), whilst in the castle’s tallest tower. The tower that happened to also be the most open to the elements. Given that they hadn’t even ended up using their telescopes for this first class, Harry did wonder _why_ they had been at the top of the Astronomy Tower. They had barely even looked up at the night sky (which, as previously sated, had been mostly covered by a thin layer of clouds with complimentary ‘light’ Scottish rain!). - While the magical telescopes were apparently designed to circumvent most Scottish weather, the lens actually seeing through the drizzle to the starry-sky above, _they_ weren’t as fortunate. Even with Harry having worn quite a few layers (Dudley’s hand-me-downs) with his uniform, underneath the outer-robes, the constant drizzle had somehow managed to go right through the lot during the hour and a half of class. (He wouldn’t be surprised if it had turned out to be - _somehow_ \- _magical_ Scottish rain).

Not that he wasn’t appreciative now of the reprieve in their schedules; Their first class (Herbology) wasn’t until third period. Hence his retreat to the owlery...

With a sigh, Harry pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and forced himself to focus on the words in the book:

 

‘ ** _Aconitum napellus_**

 

**_Common names : _ ** _aconite, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, mousebane, women's bane, devil's helmet, queen of poisons, or blue rocket_

**_Endemic to_ ** _: Worldwide - mountainous regions of Europe, North America; within Britain: Scotland_

**_Sentience_ ** _: Non-sentient_

**__Parts used_ _** :  _Root, rhizome, stem, leaf, flower._

**_Toxicity levels_ ** _: Leaves - Very toxic_

**_Additional notes/tips_ ** _: Cerberus saliva helps plant grow faster._

  _~_

  ** _Usage_  **

**_Healing / Potions_ ** _: pain-reliever, diuretic, heart sedative, sweat inducer_

**_Beings / Creatures_ ** _: A defence against both vampires and werewolves. Plant placed in and around dwellings, especially around any possible opening, to deter entrance from Dark Creatures._

**_Hunting_ ** _: Used as poison in animal bait; Used on arrows used when hunting werewolves, vampires, [-]._

_~_

_There are over 250 species of aconite flowering plants. Mainly found growing on rocky areas, in the Northern Hemisphere, growing in the moisture-retentive but well-draining soils of mountain meadows. Most species are extremely poisonous and must be dealt with very carefully._ _[...]_ ’ [[4]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftn4)

 

*

 

After reading all Phyllida Spore had written on aconite, as well as a dozen other plants, it was now time to head to class—or really, it was time for Harry to head down, to have enough time to find his way to Greenhouse One.

He gave Hedwig one last soft pet and stood up. The book was carefully put back in his bag (Dudley’s old bag), next to the quills and parchments (– _Heavens_ , he was definitely still getting used to thinking about ‘ _quills_ ’ and ‘ _parchme_ nt’ rather than pens and lined-paper). Smoothing out his robes from any possible crumbs or wrinkles, to then make sure that his hat was still sitting straight on his head (and covering his ever-messy hair), Harry headed for the door and slowly made his way down the stairs.

He had just about reached the lower landing when the soft sound of his old-worn trainers against the stone steps was broken by chatter – people talking and walking. At the fastened pace, they were most likely between two classes – two classes at opposite ends of this maze of a school.

A group of witches passed in front of alcove he was standing in not a moment later. _Gryffindor_ , by the flashes of scarlet robes. Harry was still caught off guard when he recognised one near the back; Lily Evans talking with another girl.

A beat later, closing at the rear, were Remus and another Gryffindor boy in the process of stuffing a parchment full of notes into his bag by the looks of it.

On seeing his train companion, Harry was suddenly and inexplicably drawn to take the last step and call out to him.

However, before he took action, he just as quickly stopped cold as a new voice came through.

“— _Potter_ , Black, wait up.”

At the call, Harry instead sunk further into the niche, trying to be one with the wall. Not a moment later, another just as loud voice, replied, “ _Merlin_ Peter, _keep up_! My Great-Aunt Sylvia goes faster than you, and she’s over a hundred! - And how many times do I have to say, it’s ‘ _James_ ’. Do I look like some stuck-up pounce to you?”

One – two — _three_ blurred shapes passed by the archway, for another voice to respond, “ _Well_ you do have a certain look; ya’know, like you’ve got dung under your nose.”

“ _Ha_! Kettle calling the whole freaking cauldron, _Black_! I’m not the one whose parents are _second_ _cousins_.”

“No mate, haven’t you heard – I’m the _white_ owl of the family.”

“The whole castle heard. Wouldn’t be surprised if they heard in Hogsmeade; your mother’s does have the most _soothing_ voice. _Merlin_ and here I’d thought it was your banshee love—...” The rest of the conversation dimmed, too far away for Harry to hear the rest.

No other sounds came forth. Harry gave a careful couple steps and glanced, sneaking a peak around the edge of the alcove to just see the retreating form James Potter, with Sirius Black, followed closely behind by the fifth Gryffindor boy, Peter Pettigrew.

Apart from them, the hallway empty.

A silent sigh took hold of him as he finally moved into the corridor, to made his way to Herbology.

 

_James Potter._

 

_Potter._

 

_Potter. Potter._

Harry hadn’t properly seen, let alone met, ‘James Potter’ since the Welcome Feast. Yet, given the last few days, any mention of ‘Potter’ had his heart beating against his ribcage and his stomach rolling. It was all a mix of excitement, dread and several other things Harry had not yet identified. Not that he was sure if all— _all_ _this_ was a good or bad thing...

It was just his luck that while trying to get around the wizarding world and a large, fully magical, school, Harry was also getting his head round the fact that he had a family, one that wasn’t the Durlseys.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys had been his only family. He couldn't even remember his parents. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them. There weren’t photographs of them in the house. And of course he had been forbidden to ask questions.

And now it felt like the magical world had burst the gate to a whole bunch of them: a _James_ , a _Fleamont_ , _Charlus_ , _Euphemia_ and _Dorea_... a _Henry_ and a _Jamian_...

... And even a possible ‘ _Great Aunt Sylvia_ ’.

With everything else going on he hadn’t had the time to look for the Genealogy books Severus had mentioned possibly resided in the library. - Nor had he wanted to look them up, let alone look _through_ them, the previous afternoon, with half the Slytherin first years with him. He had already garnered more than enough attention from the three owls and their accompanying letters, at breakfast; one from each of the Potter couples, and the third from Henry Potter, expressing his apparent eagerness to meet Harry on his coming visit.

In any case, perhaps... perhaps it was best if he got to know the (other) Potters through meeting them and their letters rather than through the pages of a book. History (not to mention his own experience with the Durlseys and his previous school) had proved that there was always more than one version to any story or person.

The Potters he had met so far appeared friendly enough. Their letters were all the more indication that, at the very least, they actually seemed to care about him further than what ‘ _unnatural_ thing’ he might have done. Incidentally though, it was mirror to the Dursleys in that the Potters were actually very much interested about any magic Harry might have already done, and what he was learning during his first days at Hogwarts.

A small part of Harry though also acknowledged that maybe he was holding back— _delaying_ , even if for a bit, looking through the books. What if he found something that would... disappoint him?

Just in the same way, a part of him was dreading meeting James Potter... to find him worse than Dudley (especially given the few echoes from the train and what he had seen at the Sorting.)—

\- “ _There_ you are!”

Harry looked up at the call, his thoughts (worries) interrupted.

As soon as he reached him, Severus stared at Harry in the way he was noticeably prone to do, which, in turn, made Harry straighten his hat and robes at the scrutiny.

He supposed that Severus, like everyone else, was curious about him. But the way Severus would sometimes stare at him... Harry thought it his ‘ _Petunia stare_ ’. His sharp beady black eyes took in the whole of him; they became these two whirlpools of darkness that sucked everything in, every piece of him, as if anything was different – changed - missing - added – about Harry since the last time they had seen each other.

Like Aunt Petunia, it felt like he knew things about Harry just by that look. Knew things that Harry didn’t even know about himself. (Though in Aunt Petunia’s case, he now knew how true his apprehensions had been. She had been looking for the magic within him – the magic she lacked.)

Perhaps it was to do with living a partially-muggle life? Other than the few comments about his mother on the train journey, Severus hadn’t talked about home. Nevertheless, going by the fact that he had previously met Lily in their home town, it had to obviously be at least a half-muggle dwelling place like Ottery St Catchpole or Tinworth.

“Where were you?— ”

Unlike Petunia though, instead of pursing his lips (or giving him extra shores), Severus would then just snapped out of it and go on as if nothing had happened.

“–When you weren’t in the Dungeons, I looked for you in the Great Hall and library, only to find you in neither,” His tone made it clear how unimpressed he was with Harry for having made him search through the castle.

Harry bit back the urge to defend himself. Severus might be used to being around Lily and other friend, even his parents, back home, but no one had ever cared what Harry got up to. With the Dursleys (even with his school), it had always been along the lines of _‘out of sight, out of mind’_ (as long as he wasn’t doing anything _unnatural_ , of course).

“I went to visit Hedwig – received replies to my letters.”

The black eyes snapped to Harry’s bag at the answer; rightly guessing the letters’ location.

Yet, instead of giving into his curiosity, asking on what the various Potters’ answers, Severus replied -“ _Well_ , you could have left a note,” focusing on his previous irritation.

“Will do, next time,” Harry promised with a nod, suppressing a smile.

That’s why he liked Severus; the other boy knew when not to press (even if it was clear that he really wanted to).

Still, really wanting to move on before temptation got too much, Harry asked, “Do you thing Sprout’s going to let us actually _do_ something this time?” All while he directed them to the group forming in the distance (a mix of Slytherin-green and Ravenclaw-blue), waiting for the aforementioned teacher to open the greenhouse doors.

“Let’s hope so.”

There was little surprise for the answer: all of the first year Slytherin boys had already voiced their shared disappointment in the still very much only _theory_ -based schooling they were receiving so far.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[1]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftnref1) <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bladud>
> 
> [[2]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftnref2) <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caelus> / Aurora Sinistra is not yet a teacher in 1971 but a student in this fic.
> 
> [[3]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftnref3) <https://theculturetrip.com/europe/united-kingdom/scotland/articles/27-scottish-words-and-phrases-to-describe-the-weather/>
> 
> [[4]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463234/chapters/new#_ftnref4) Text based on a mix of [Harry Potter Wiki - Aconite](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Aconite) and [Wikipedia - Aconitum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aconitum)


End file.
